Nightshade Seduction
by TaintedSpells
Summary: She is the key to his revenge. The process is complex, but oh so fun. Seduction. Betrayal. Manipulation of her precious emotions and mind. He enjoys it more than he should, and the more he touches and talks to her, the closer his doom creeps. Synlet
1. He Cometh Once Again

Title: Nightshade Seduction

Pairing: Syndrome/Violet (aka Synlet)

Rating: T… For now.

A/N:

(shaking her head) I don't know how this happened. One minute I'm browsing for something new to read, and the next I am irreversibly hooked on this pairing. Snap! and I can't pull away. (sigh) The crack!pairings always do this to me… Well, following the advice of an author (whose name I sadly cannot recall) I am adding my own Synlet fiction. I hope this deviates from the capture-Violet-and-make-her-Syndrome's-hostage at least by a tiny bit.

Oh my, I almost forgot. Let us discuss my views on an adult having relations with a minor, a subject that is most certainly pertinent to this story.

First thing's first: I like laws. I love 'em. It's my belief that laws are created to help us. With that said, I don't support underage relationships, but I do find it important that Violet is _just _old enough to skip over childhood and adulthood. So, with _that_ said, I would like to point out that Violet is a fresh **sixteen** while Syndrome is a strapping **twenty-eight.** She IS of legal age, at least where I am currently residing. I think in other places the legal age is eighteen (give or take a few years), but for writing purposes let's say that the laws of my home carry over into Metroville. Hey, it could be worse, I assure you. But, even though she is of legal age, she is still _very _young, yes? Ahahah, my precious plot bunny. (Feeds the bunny a carrot).

Alrighty, let's begin, shall we?

Wow, I can't believe I almost forgot this:

This goes for all future chapters. The Incredibles does not belong to me! Anything you recognize here belongs to Disney and Pixar!

* * *

**Chapter One: He Cometh Once Again**

_"A wind of hatred is blowing across the field... I swear I'll get my revenge."_

_"Highland Revenge" by Crystal Eyes _

* * *

Bandages and bars. He hated them both.

Zero point energy had spared him from a most gruesome death, but it had landed him smack dab in a class five state penitentiary, white gauze and sterile bandages wrapped around him as if they were preparing to preserve and entomb him.

Oh wait. They had already done that.

_Damn bandages. _He glared at them and spared himself a moment of childishness, grumbling, "I hate you," very angrily towards his wounds. He added plane shrapnel and flaming babies and flying cars and a whole other things to his infamous List of Hate before he continued his 'morning walk' around the inside of his cell, ignoring the eyes- electronic and otherwise- watching his every move.

He very much felt like a wolf pacing in a cage. He could feel it's anger for being put into the cage, it's rage towards it's captors, and the itching, constant feeling of wanting to be free. He even growled at the guard who slid his morning meal between the bars of his cell.

_Idiots, _he whispered harshly in his head, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room, his mind tracing each and every detail of the prison room for what seemed like the umpteenth time. His eye landed on the guard and a silent exchange passed between them. By the look on the guard's face and the pallor of his skin, it was not a happy one.

_Once I get out of this cage- I WILL get out of this cage- I'm going to make sure _you _go near the top of my List of Revenge._

He _would_ make them top- oh how he would love to do that- but that special, shining spot was reserved for another.

More recently, another _family._

He stopped mid-pace, brow furrowing with anger. Yes… The moment he got out, he would begin to plot the downfall of the godforsaken Incredibles, the shameful, infuriating source of his fall from power.

_But not all of my power is lost, _his mind's voice cackled. _Oh no, I still have plenty to rebuild, foreign though it may be. _

He would rebuild. He would reconstruct. He would grow and thrive and rise above the tallest buildings and the highest peaks and would pluck the very moon itself from the sky when he was done climbing back up from the filthy ground he had crashed landed onto. If he had his way, he would make himself godlike.

Nothing would stop him. He would crush the Incredibles with his own bare hands and would watch with glee as their remains were forever lost to the wind.

There was a feeling in his chest, one that he hadn't felt for months. When he recognized it, he smiled, and then the feeling bled into his features and seeped upward and-

He chuckled. Then, he laughed, quietly, carefully- his own little secret laugh- and began to sketch out the plans for his and the Incredibles's futures...

He grinned.

"Or lack thereof," he murmured with a cackle.

His mind conjured up a mental notebook as he began to brainstorm. The evil wheels of his evil brain were evilly spinning as he began to hatch an evil plan.

_What to do, what to do. There are so many options! _

_Perhaps I just… kill them? _He frowned and erased the thought. _No, no, they need to suffer, but I just don't think that physical pain can finish the job on its own. No, there needs to be some psychological twists to _this _game._

Psychological… Well, he had plenty of options. He could always kidnap one of the supers and use them against their family… but that didn't seem right, either.

_I've pretty much done that already, _he said to himself with cynical bite to his words, knowing just how well _that _plan worked. _No, I cannot simply capture a super. That's far too clichéd, but more importantly, expected. Hmm, what to do, what to do…?_

Then, a memory. A flash of his former evil tutor, the sad face of a woman, and the triumphant laughter that ensued.

Syndrome's eyes widened fractionally. Oh…_ I hadn't thought of _that_ before…_

But it was _perfect. _It would hurt them- _tear them __**apart. **_And then he could walk right through their front door and extract his rightful revenge.

Oddly enough, despite the obvious perfection of the plan, he felt… unsettled. His reasons why varied across the board, but it was mostly because he wasn't so sure he could pull _this _kind of thing off. His mentor had been a smooth-talking, gun-waving, cigar-smoking genius that nobody could cross-

_Well, besides me._

This plan touched dangerous ground, even for him.

In the distance, he heard the garble of a radio and the excited voice of (he imagined in his head) a blonde reporter shaking with emotions.

"Ladies and gentlemen, The Incredibles have done it again! Downtown Metroville has once again been saved by their heroic efforts! Mr. Incredible, the city extends their thanks to you!"

"It's no problem," said the deep voice of Mr. Incredible.

"_Robert," _seethed Syndrome.

"I'm just doing my job as a hero."

Syndrome's mental notebook was now quickly filling with scrawls of 'Hate' all over the pages. Hate, kill, die, all coupled with that _stupid _man's face.

"I'll do it," growled Syndrome with determination, his plan blossoming in his mind, "and I'll savor every second that _super _writhes on the ground."

Revenge. It was always revenge.

* * *

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but that's why there's a second one for you. :)


	2. Her Sorrow

A/N: Yes, well, I would like to quickly warn you that there are some things that are… insinuated about Violet, not very happy things. I do not like these things, but they are real and they are there, and even a super cannot escape them.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Her Sorrow**

_"In my heart you were the only, and your memory lives on."_

_"Why Did You Leave Me?" by Westlife_

* * *

_Three years later…_

Violet was punctual, liked mornings, and absolutely loved her mother's waffles. That was why it almost made no sense at to why she slept in that morning even though the delicious smell of breakfast filled every nook and cranny of the household.

Almost was the key word.

Her eyelids fluttered open, the bright Sunday sun filtering through the blinds on her window. The crisp smell of spring wafted through, rattling the blinds slightly against the wall, a random chirp of a bird here and there clicking along. Violet languidly stretched in her bed, her petite mouth shaping into the form of a yawn. Blinking, she turned on her side to her nightstand, looking at her clock. 9:15 shone in bright red numbers.

No, she almost never slept in.

She almost never reached out towards her small notepad calendar, March 16 the revealed date, a small, goofy picture of her and Tony Rydinger from when they went to the carnival together taped on top of that page.

She almost never cradled her calendar against her chest and cried.

"Tony," she sobbed. "I miss you… I miss you so much…"

Her mother was standing in the doorway prepared, the rest of the family cautiously waiting and listening intently in the direction of Violet's room. Even Jak Jak paused, his waffle castle being put on hold, the syrup bottle dribbling freely from it's upside down position over the plate.

"Vi," said Helen softly, knocking on the door. "I'm coming in, alright?"

Violet turned away from the door, the calendar still tucked tightly against her. "Go away," she mumbled, her voice already stuffy from tears.

Helen sighed, but she continued on in the room anyway despite the small noise of protest Violet made. She gently sat down on her bed and began to stroke her hair, Helen's own sorrow on that day not nearly as strong as her daughter's.

"I know you're sad honey, I know."

"No you don't," said Violet chokingly, her stomach churning. "You'll never know," she added with a whisper.

Helen sighed again, but didn't rebuke her daughter. No, she supposed she wouldn't know. She did know however that Violet refused to let the guilt die when she had no reason to be guilty. Violet cared too much and because of that, felt responsible for Tony's death.

"Violet, it wasn't your fault. You know this-"

"I could have saved him," she sobbed, tears falling heavier. "I could have! But… but…"

She remembered the last time he saw his face. Well, the last time she saw his face alive. It had been right before… right before everything had died. Love, life, existence itself.

"He waved at me," she said bitterly, "and tried to get my attention. He called out to me, but I didn't hear. He crossed the road and…"

That truck. That stupid truck. She would always hate that truck. And she would always hate herself.

She began to cry again, harder this time, and Helen quickly scooped Violet into her arms and rocked her gently, the best thing a mother could do for her child. She stroke Violet's hair again, and this time it had a soothing effect, her daughter's sobs dwindling to hiccups.

"You know," said Helen quietly, "Tony wouldn't like to see you like this."

Violet stiffened. She knew. Tony wouldn't also like to see what was hidden under the long dark sleeves of her shirt, but nobody knew about those. Not even her beloved mother.

Helen pulled back a fraction so she could look Violet in the eyes. Helen started slightly at the intensity of the color of her daughter's gaze. She always seemed to forget how deep the purple color of her irises could get when she cried.

"Vi," she said, wiping away a tear from her daughter's cheek, "hon, we all miss him, but I think… I think it's time we move on."

"No!" exclaimed Violet suddenly, clutching onto the calendar- her reminder- and tried to shake herself free from her mother's grasp. "I refuse!"

"You can't do this forever," said Helen, carefully keeping her frustration in check. Her daughter was so stubborn-

_Just like me, _she thought with a chuckle.

"I can too!" retorted Violet with a hiccup, her childishness showing threw her physical maturity. In some ways, Violet was far more mature than any teen. In others, she sometimes thought she would fare better in a nursery.

Helen sighed once again but she simple took hold of Violet again, Violet scowling but letting herself be held. "It's been two years, Vi. It's time to let yourself heal."

"I don't want to," whispered Violet.

"Why?"

"Because."

Helen rolled her eyes. What a teenage answer that was. "Violet, tell me."

Violet squirmed in her mother's embrace. "I… I don't know," she finished lamely, feeling very confused and frustrated with her perfectly truthful answer.

Helen nodded. "You don't know." Yet another adolescent answer. "We're going in circles, Vi."

"So?" Violet huffed, hugging the calendar closer. "All that matters is that I refuse to forget. End of story."

"No, young lady, _not _end of story." Helen still held Violet tenderly and lovingly. She needed to be careful with her sensitive daughter. "But… I can't force you to forget."

Violet made a noise in her throat that said without words, "See? I was right."

"However," added Helen, causing Violet to tense up again, "even though I am going to leave you alone about this, I expect you to do the right thing and learn to let go. Really Violet, I cannot stress the importance of this, especially since we are supers." Helen shook her head. "If I hadn't learned to forgive myself, I would have most likely drowned in sorrow long ago."

Violet remained silent, her thumb unconsciously brushing against her wrists through the cotton of her shirt. _I'm drowning in it right now._

Helen placed a kiss on the top of Violet's head and then finally let her go. Violet scrambled back down into her previous position, tucking her knees back up towards her chest and throwing up her, "Leave me alone, I am a sixteen year old angsty teenage girl" defenses- very strong defenses indeed.

"Come and eat with us, Vi. We're having waffles."

"I'm not hungry," came her muffled reply, trying to force as much gloom into her voice as she could muster, which happened to be a _lot._

Helen shook her head at her daughter, not favoring this emo (that _was _what the man on the television had called it, right?) stage her daughter was going through, but it was all apart of her daughter's mourning.

"Alright," said Helen finally. She began to close the door behind her. "Oh, and we will be heading to the cemetery at noon. Please make sure you're ready to go by then."

The door clicked shut, and Violet's room filled with silence. Gingerly, she unfolded herself and looked down at the slightly rumpled calendar in her arms. She saw the picture and the joy that had once been in her eyes… and in Tony's.

"I will never forget," she whispered harshly, tucking herself again, tears forming once more. "I will _never _forget."

* * *

Clearwater High (Home of the Capers recently after the save of Metroville from Syndrome's robot) was not Violet's favorite place. It was… She could tolerate it, perhaps even like it a small amount. Still, she would much rather be somewhere else. Too many memories, too much pain. Certainly not a lack in sympathy, that much was for sure. In fact, the school itself was very nice and filled with good people who liked her and liked to be around her. It was just… sad. Very, very sad. 

Violet climbed the stairs to the main doors very slowly the morning after Tony's memorial, already preparing herself for the careful words and softened glances from the others. Unconsciously, she tucked her hair behind her ear- she was nervous. She hoped she didn't break down in front of everyone again.

Kari was already waiting for her beside her locker, a heart covered bag in her hands. From the lumps inside, Violet judged that her best friend had done some splurging in the candy isle.

_Ah Kari, you know my special weakness._

"Er- Hi, Violet!" chirped Kari, faltering slightly, wondering if she had said the right thing. Violet hadn't begun to cry, so she continued. She held out the bag, "I got you-"

"Chocolate?" guessed Violet.

"Yeah!" brightened Kari. "And it's-"

"Hershey's?" Violet took the bag and sure enough there were half a dozen of Hershey's chocolate bars piled on one another. Violet's eyes began to tear up and immediately Kari began to panic.

"Oh-! Oh, I didn't know you don't like Hershey's!" Kari pounded her fist against her forehead. "Stupid Kari, stupid, stupid!"

"N-no," blubbered Violet, "that's not it." Violet set the bag down and hugged her friend tightly, Kari confused.

"Thanks, Kari."

Kari gave herself time to figure things out and when she realized she wasn't in trouble, she hugged her friend back. "You're always welcome, Vi."

More presents like this came into her possession that day. Most of it was chocolate (Kari, you can't just go around telling everyone my unhealthy liking for candy!) but there were plenty of cards, little knick knacks, a stuffed animal here and there, and enough balloons to lift her off the ground and away.

"Okay," she said slowly, standing in the middle of the hall, her face completely hidden by the bundle of presents she had in her arms. "What am I supposed to do with all of these?"

There was no way she would be able to fit them in her locker. Maybe she could donate them.

_Or I could just sit down right here and begin to feast upon my bounty, _said a hungry voice in her head.

She could be very convincing when she wanted to and began to struggle to try and put everything down on the ground without causing an entire avalanche.

"Easy, slowly-"

Suddenly, she was knocked backwards and she stumbled, eyes widening fractionally, before she toppled to the ground, everything falling on top of her in an array of color and shapes, the balloons flying from her hands and bouncing slightly against the ceiling.

"Ow." _What in the heck was that?_

There was a voice, one that she hadn't heard before… No, it sounded familiar. Definitely not someone from the school. It was a male voice, an older male. A teacher?

"Watch where you're-" the voice began before it abruptly came to a stop. "Er, I mean, are you alright?"

"Maybe," she groaned and flexed everything. "Yeah, I'm fine." She couldn't see- too many presents! She did see that the teddy bear sitting on her head was made in China, but beyond that, not much.

"Could you help me up, please?"

There was a pause- teacher or not, he had issues- before a hand suddenly fished forward and grabbed onto her own. Packages fell all around her as she felt herself rise from the ground. Her long black hair was in disarray and it was tangled all around her. She fought to push it out of her face. Soon, she was free, and finally she saw who had knocked her down.

Time stopped. No, there was no time. Just fear. Always, always fear.

"Syndrome," she whispered, eyes widening.

If his eyes widened, she didn't notice or thought it was a figment of her imagination because immediately his face took on a very mirrored look, amusement coming from his every pore.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Violet Parr, or should I say _Invisigirl?" _

Well, he looked a little different. His hair was cropped shorter and combed back, a free strand of hair hanging over his forehead and just barely touching his eyebrow, an eyebrow that sported a white scar. Another scar was along the bottom of his chin, and another longer one on the side of his neck.

None of that mattered. Syndrome was right in front of her. Right. In. Front. Of. Her.

Syndrome took a step towards her and leaned down, his voice a quiet murmur. "Oh, and for the record," he said, "it's Buddy, now."

Violet scowled. She knew that _Syndrome _had been sentenced to only a year of house arrest. That fact in itself just showed how easily humans could be corrupt when fat wads of cash were waved in front of their eyes. But after the trial, he had disappeared. Completely. Even her father had forgotten about him after a while.

But here he was, right in front of her, living and breathing and oh-my-God-he's-a-_teacher?!_

Right there, clipped on the right pocket of Buddy's work suit, was his teacher's pass, Buddy Pine signed at the bottom.

Syndrome followed Violet's eyes and smirked. "Well," he said after a moment, "I suppose _you _must call me _Mr. _Pine."

"No," said Violet immediately. "No, no, _no way _you are a teacher. They would _never _let you teach you villainous, murderous-!"

"In a different life that would have been very flattering," said Syndrome with a smirk, Violet flushing red with anger, "but I'm afraid that I've left _that _life behind."

"Lies," she hissed.

"Are you sure?" he asked, eyebrow rising.

"Yes," was her immediate answer, ignoring the small twinge that was not so confident.

"I am repaying my debt to society," he explained, gesturing around at the walls of the school. "Why not start here? I _am _a genius, you know. I can most certainly nurture the precious seeds of the future quite well."

"You will do nothing but corrupt and harm them," she said angrily, shaking.

"That's not what the Board of Education said."

"The Board of Education is filled with old geezers who love money more than their wives."

Buddy remained silent and Violet knew that he silently knew that this was the truth. This only made her even angrier and scared at the same time.

"I'm telling my father," she whispered.

"Good for you," said Syndrome, a hint of irritation in his voice. "You and every single parent of this school will know. Memos are being sent to every household to notify them of my… _presence."_

"There's no way you're going to be able to stay."

"I beg to differ."

"Why are you here anyway?" She was bristling with annoyance. There was something off with him, she _knew _this. She just didn't know what!

"I told you," he said slowly, treating her as if she was ill in the head, "I am helping repay my debt back to society. There isn't much more of an answer than that." A pause, then, "Well, that isn't entirely true."

"Ah hah!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "I knew it!"

"It's nothing evil, unfortunately," he said with a glint in his eyes that made her finger fall. "It's… more of a personal thing, really."

"…Personal?"

"Yes," he said softly, that glint in his eyes sparkling, "personal, as in _my _business, but…" He trailed off, a slight twist on his lips. "I suppose I _could _share it with _you."_

He was _mocking _her! She responded with a scowl. "You're terrible," she said, her voice low so that he couldn't detect the shaking little girl within her.

"I _was _terrible. Now I'm just endearing."

He was _riling her up. _She thanked God above that she hadn't suddenly wrapped Syndrome in a forcefield and begin to shake him like a hamster in a ball.

"You're hiding something," she said, eyes narrowing. "There's something going on in that big head of yours and I'm going to find out what."

Syndrome gave her a look, raising his eyebrow, bemused. "Let me just tell you," he said quickly with a grin and just as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, the bell rang and students filed out of the classrooms. Then, he was gone and Violet was standing in the middle of the hallway, hackles rising along with her anger and fear and disgust.

"That… _man_." He was so arrogant. So smug. So much a jerk and so very, very sarcastic. She hated sarcasm and she hated him.

She kicked a bear- it had suddenly taken on the shape of Syndrome's head in her mind's eye- and set it flying into the lockers nearby, his words ringing in her head.

"_I'm here because I want to get to know _you, _Miss. Parr."_

He scared her. He scared her so much, and now that he was here, saying _those things _to her, she was even more frightened.

"But… I can't just _leave."_

No. She had to find out what he was up to. She _would _find out. She promised herself she wouldn't let up until she discovered his foul plan, whatever it was even though she was so deathly afraid.

_You…_

She shivered.


	3. Stage One

* * *

**Chapter Three: Stage One**

_"It's been a while since I first saw you."_

_"It's Been A While" by Staind_

* * *

Syndrome woke up refreshed that Sunday morning. 

_Not Syndrome, _supplied his sarcastic mind, _Buddy, remember?_

Ah, that's right. He wasn't out for revenge anymore. He was simply Buddy Pine, a young man trying to atone for his sins. What better way to do that then to teach the leaders of the future not to do "bad things?" like _he _had done.

_Buddy _yawned, stretching his arms above his head and then he let them fall to either side of his body, hitting… nothing.

He slowly turned his head to the empty pillow next to him. If he stared long enough, he could almost imagine a beautiful woman lying next to him, her silver hair fanned out around her soft bronze skin. She would always smile- _always _smile- at him when he woke up.

Always, until _him._

Then, just as the image began to appear, it was gone, a whisper of a memory floating away, leaving Buddy cold and forlorn.

"M…"

He almost said her name. It had been there right on the tip of his tongue, but luckily he had caught himself in time. He wouldn't let her have the satisfaction of making _him _feel bad when he didn't do _anything._

"Yet another reason why _Mr. Incredible _needs to leave the picture."

Secretly, oh so secretly, deep within his heart he had the quivering belief that if that _super _was gone, then maybe… maybe she'd…

"No," he said sharply, suddenly sitting up in his bed and throwing off the covers, revealing black and white plaid sleep pants. He stood up, stomping angrily to his bathroom. "I will _not _let her break me like that again!"

The bathroom door slammed shut and Buddy mindlessly threw off his clothes and stepped into the shower, glaring the entire time. He wielded the bar of soap as if it was a club and attacked his body, snarling and throwing curses about women and their idiocy. His hair was next and as he scrubbed and scrubbed his scalp, he almost forgot what time it was.

_Ah, I can't be late for my new job._

His movements slowed slightly and eased as the feeling of accomplishment began to creep on the back of his senses. He smirked to himself and began to rinse himself free of soap, his mind clicking the pieces of his plan together.

_Hmm, so much to do and all the time in the world to do it. Very convenient if I do say so myself._

He shut off the water with a quick voice command and stepped out, shaking himself free of water- not unlike a dog- and wrapped a towel around his waist just as the expected call rang from outside of the bathroom. He smirked again and went out into his room.

"Answer."

A phone line clicked above unseen speakers. "Er, hello? Mr. Pine?"

"Yes, this is Mr. Pine," said Buddy, finding this all too amusing. "And is this Mr. McDouglas?"

"Yes, it is, sir. I am just calling to make sure you are making an appearance today at Clearwater. You are, correct?"

"Why, Mr. McDouglas, I wouldn't miss it for the _world._" It was mostly the truth. The only thing that was a lie was the sweet, sincere tone in his voice. That was made entirely of lies.

"Good. It will be an honor having you at Clearwater High… Ah, is the money…?"

"Wired and sitting in your bank account as we speak," said Buddy smoothly, inspecting the tips of his fingers. "Good day, Mr. McDouglas."

The phone line clicked off and Buddy yawned before crossing over to his bed. He sat down and reached into his nightstand, pulling out his palm pilot. He typed in a few things regarding his finances, sent a few schematics of a couple of his inventions, and suddenly the large gap of money he had spent on Mr. McDouglas was refilled double. With a quick smirk, he set the palm pilot down and stood up to get ready for his "first day of school."

He walked into his closet. It was more of a living room, considering the impossible size, but he didn't bother with the details. Instead, he began to scan the racks lining the walls, his hand rubbing his chin in thought.

"What to wear, what to wear…?"

He wasn't being conceited. He truly had no idea what to wear.

He'd have to look good- no, handsome, and more importantly _nice _if his plan was going to work. He'd already gotten his hair cut because of it (sacrifices must be made for the better evil), his teeth fixed (he didn't care; he would _never _re-live that experience again, what with the whirring and the drills and that _awful _grinding sound and the horrid taste of medicine and blood… never again) and had his closet restocked with "nice looking" clothes. He had the materials yes, but not exactly the knowledge concerning this kind of… thing. Back then, M- _she, _chose his outfits. He never did.

Hesitantly, he pulled a suit of the rack and looked at it, comparing it with the image of other men he had seen on the television. "I suppose this will work," he murmured, unsure.

_It _better _work or else whoever company made this thing is not going to see much of the business world anymore._

He got dressed and left his room, heading down his stairs and going into his garage. His usual driver was there, but after a quick word Buddy dismissed him. He was a _teacher _now. Teachers didn't pull up to the high school in a black limousine.

He got into his black Mercedes, one that he customized himself. Sliding into the seat, he simply said, "start" and they were off, speeding down the long driveway leading away from his mansion towards the main highway.

He was still adjusting to the "normal life" (as normal as a multibillionaire could get). Sometimes he missed the secrecy, the hidden doorways and the numerous passwords used to get through even more secretive doors. Luckily for him, he would soon be able to return to such a lifestyle. That is, if his plan carried out smoothly enough.

He had a suspicion that his target was going to make things extremely difficult, but he also knew that _he _was much more powerful and intimidating and he _knew _how to manipulate a mind. A few bumps in the road would be easily handled.

He smirked to himself, his hands clenching tightly onto the steering wheel, the leather creaking. He wanted to start his plan right then. He didn't want to wait. He was _excited _because he knew it was brilliant and it _would _give him what he wanted.

Five steps. Five steps and his revenge would be complete.

_And the first step…_

Well, he would just have to wait until he reached the school. The car went faster.

* * *

The welcoming committee was mediocre at best. He bet that some old woman in her fifties who barely had any friends who could withstand her taste in the tried and true had been the one behind it all. Yet he took it all in stride and with a smile. 

Inwardly, he was mentally blasting them all with his patented death laser.

He was taking aim at a woman's rather large head of hair when the principal (Mr. Goldman? Mr. Goodybar? He didn't know) held out a small pass, Buddy's picture already glued to the plastic.

"All we need is your signature," said Mr. Grayfarm, handing him a pen.

Buddy looked from the pass to the pen and then quickly took both and went to the nearest table and signed his name. Buddy stared at his signature, feeling an old sense of nostalgia wash over him. How long had he seen _that _signature?

"Too long," murmured Buddy in the barest of whispers before returning Mr. Googledar's pen.

"Good to have you on the team," said Mr. Ganglebar, grinning and shaking his hand. "A genius like you teaching our students for the barest amount of money is a treasure indeed."

Buddy smiled, nodding and shaking the man's hand, all the while cursing. He _liked _money and when he worked, he expected money. He would have to deal with wave upon wave of brats for practically nothing just so he could-

_It's worth it. Every last bit._

"It's my pleasure," said Buddy, actually sincere.

The teachers all sat around, eating lunch (Buddy didn't eat. He only ate what his chef cooked him. So what if he was picky?). Buddy found that he mostly watched outside of the window where the hall was. Teenagers filled the area, collecting and gathering in huddled groups. Sometimes they appeared to be a single being instead of just a bunch of bodies coagulated together.

Big backpacks sat upon their backs (Perhaps, with time, they would evolve into an intelligent breed of camel?), girls ran though the halls, balloons hovering above their heads. And, after a little more time passed, more balloons. He even saw a couple of stuffed animals.

_Somebody's birthday?_

Mostly he saw the total lack of interest in their eyes. Each and every one of them appeared as if they would rather die then spend another second within Clearwater's walls. Buddy, while he extremely disliked being here, valued knowledge and _none _of these kids looked like they wanted to learn.

His stomach fell slightly. His stay here was going to be trouble, he knew.

He stood up from his chair and suddenly exited the room, much to his co-workers' surprise. He wandered around the halls, ignoring the looks of the students and categorically refusing to meet any and all eyes that recognized him as Syndrome, which happened to be a lot.

_A major hassle, _he thought to himself with slight irritation, almost walking into a timid freshmen, the skinny boy only just moving out of Buddy's way as he stormed on by. _All of these… _teenagers, _everywhere. Their stupid eyes all staring at me. I'll show them. I'll make them fear Syndrome _and _Buddy Pine. They'll have no choice but to respect me-!_

Suddenly, something was in his path, but he had no time to stop and the impending collision came to be. He stumbled back slightly, his thoughts startled to the real world. He hardly felt any sympathy- check that, _no _sympathy whatsoever- when he saw… well, someone, lying on the ground, presents upon presents lying on top of them.

_Ah, so it was their birthday._

He realized that he actually _ran into _whoever was lying on the ground and immediately he attempted to cover up his embarrassment with anger.

"Watch where you're-"

He paused. _Not Syndrome, remember? You're Buddy. Not Syndrome… at least, not yet._

He adjusted his words. "Er, I mean, are you alright?"

"Maybe," came the groan from beneath the presents.

_It's a girl._

The voice was soft and very feminine, but it held a stern quality behind it that rebuked no arguments. It was a pleasant voice and was probably very good at singing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said after a moment, the presents shifting about on top of her body. "Could you help me up, please?"

Buddy started. How long had he heard a request like _that? _'Help me?' When had he helped anyone?

_You're going to have to at least to pretend for a little while if you're going to get your revenge._

That jumpstarted his mind. His hand came down as he searched for the girl's own hand. Knocking a Hershey's candy bar out of the way, he grasped her hand-

_-Hm, soft yet sturdy-_

-and pulled her up.

What came up appeared to be a walking mass of black hair that also had the ability to talk. But no, it was just the girl having a really bad hair day and she already set about fixing herself up.

_Quickly now, I don't have time to dawdle-_

Her hair fell away, her face looked up at him, and their eyes locked.

Her mouth opened. "Syndrome," she breathed, obvious fear tickling the edges of her words.

Triumphant laughter echoed in his mind. _Ah hah! I've found you! _But then, suddenly, even his _laughter _faded away because… well, because he was startled.

She had _grown. _More than that, _developed. _

_Perhaps this won't be as bad as I thought, _said a still surprised voice in his head.

Alright, he would admit it, she looked nice. He wasn't conceited enough to not recognize beauty even if it was on the face of his most hated enemy. That didn't mean that felt any differently about her, though. It just made things a tad bit easier on his part.

Quickly he realized that a second more of looking at her and then it'd no longer be looking but staring. Instead, he regarded her with open interest- it _had _been a while.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Violet Parr, or should I say _Invisigirl?" _Her only spoken response to his presence brushed the edges of his mind. Inwardly, he smirked and he leaned forward to her so that their conversation became even more secretive. "Oh, and for the record, it's Buddy now."

She obviously appeared startled and unsettled, and he could even sense a bit of anger coming off of her. That was fine, he didn't want his job to be _too _easy. Then it would be no fun. Carefully he watched her, watched as she gathered all of this information around her, and then he grinned when her eyes landed on his teacher's pass. She looked absolutely horrified.

He loved it.

"Well, I suppose _you _must call me _Mr. _Pine," he said cheekily.

"No," she said suddenly, Buddy almost jumping, "no, no _no way _you are a teacher. They would _never _let you teach you villainous, murderous-"

He jumped in before she could compliment him further. "In a different life," he began, smirking at Invisigirl's blush, "that would have been very flattering, but I'm afraid that I've left _that _life behind."

"Lies," she hissed not unlike a cat. To him, he found it cute in a roundabout, universal kind of way.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He knew that answer was not entirely truthful, but he remained silent. He recalled the old monologue he had performed in front of the Grand Jury, using only the basic parts and pieces.

"I am repaying my debt to society," he began, gesturing around to the walls of the school. "Why not start here? I _am _a genius, you know."

She flinched. She knew.

He continued. "I can most certainly nurture the precious seeds of the future quite well."

"You will do nothing but corrupt and harm them."

_Again, in another life, perhaps. But not this time, I assure you._ _No, my purpose here is not world domination, although it would be a bit of fun. I have other things in mind, Miss Parr. Besides, the idiots lounging around in the office seem to like me._

"That's not what the Board of Education said."

"The Board of Education is filled with old geezers who love money more than their wives," she bit out angrily.

She caught him there and he had no way to dissuade her. Conflicted emotions crossed her face and he realized with a smirk she wasn't very happy with the truth either.

Then, "I'm telling my father."

He refrained from twisting his face up in displeasure. Somehow he knew this conversation was going to twist in this direction. Leave it to Daddy's Girl to try and scare him with the threat of her Father's Wrath.

He did allow himself a small frown. The girl may have matured physically, but there was most definitely an immature child within that curving body and no matter how good she looked, _that _would be extremely irritating for him.

"Good for you," he said, allowing a bit of his annoyance to lace his words. "You and every single parent of the school will know. Memos are being sent to every household to notify them of my…"

_My what? My villainous self altered, my perception changed, and my horns having been replaced with a halo? That a murderer is teaching the students?_

"…_Presence," _he finished carefully.

"There's no way you're going to be able to stay," she said determinedly. He had a feeling that meant that if _they _wouldn't do something about him, _she _would.

He frowned slightly. She was confusing him. _One moment she's childish, the next she has more resolve than any adult. What was wrong with this girl?_

"I beg to differ," he said, hiding his jumbled thoughts.

"Why are you here anyway?"

_I've already answered this question, _he thought irritably. He hated repeating himself. "I told you, I am helping repay my debt back to society. There isn't much more of an answer than that."

_Liar._

He jumped at the devious voice in his head and then allowed himself his own inward chuckle. Okay, so he had other plans. Looking back at the girl, at her flushed face and slightly tousled hair, he realized that this was the _perfect _opportunity to begin the first step of his plan.

_A little bait. Just a tiny bit…_

"Well," he began again, eyebrows raising slightly, "that isn't entirely true."

"Ah hah!" _Gotcha._ "I knew it!"

He almost laughed at her excitement. "It's nothing evil, unfortunately." Again, he almost laughed when her excitement faded and he let his amusement show.

_Alright, now for something a bit more appealing._

"It's… more of a personal thing, really."

The confusion on her face was priceless. He knew he had just planted thousands of questions in her head.

"…Personal?" came her baffled reply.

"Yes." He let his voice slide, soften- _"Like velvet, Buddy. Women love velvet"- _and then snagged the bait back with a sharp tug. "Personal as in _my _business."

_Okay, easy now, don't startle her. _He eased the bait back into his words, letting his voice drop only slightly, but just enough to twist his words in a completely different manner.

_Carefully. Remember, she sees you as a monster. _He went for sarcasm; not enough to let the definition of his words disappear completely, but plenty to hide almost everything.

"I suppose I _could _share it with _you."_

He waited for her reaction and to his disappointment he saw her grow angry. That was _not _what he had wanted. Not in that much quantity at least. He realized with a scowl he would have to practice.

"You're terrible," she said, and then- hah!- he felt satisfaction. There was something- most _definitely _something- that had responded to him. It was hidden, but it was _there._

_Alright. You're on the right path. Just bring her a little closer, and then ease off. _

"I _was _terrible," he said with a grin that he _knew _would irritate her. "Now I'm just endearing."

She looked, for a moment, as if she was about to attack him, but instead her gaze grew piercing and for a moment, he thought she could read his thoughts.

"You're hiding something," she said finally. "There's something going on in that big head of yours-"

_-Big head? Now that's just mean-_

"-and I'm going to find out what."

He wanted to _laugh. _This girl _just wouldn't give up! _Back and forth her thoughts went, like a tennis ball bouncing on the court, and yet she always seemed to find common ground with him. It was hilarious.

_Let's ease her thoughts, eh?_

"Let me just tell you," he said, his excitement tickling his throat when he knew that he was growing even closer to the completion of step one.

He leaned down and _purposefully _put his mouth in a close enough range where she could feel his words on her skin. He was so close, she could even hear his words over the ding of the bell.

"I'm here because I want to get to know _you, _Miss Parr."

There. The seed had been planted. He would care for it as if it was his life.

No time then, though. He had somewhere to be- work, actually. So, he left the girl in the middle of the hall, smirking to himself as he walked away.

_Stage one complete. Onto stage two._


	4. One, Yet Separate

A/N: You know, I realized that I really enjoy writing in Buddy's perspective! It's so fun to get into his head and see his genius brain try and figure out the most mundane of things. I DO hope I am keeping everything in character though.

* * *

**Chapter Four: One, Yet Separate**

_"Always changing, then love hating, bating me."_

_"Jeykll and Hyde" by Judas Priest_

* * *

Violet stared glumly down at her lunch, not even bothering to be disgusted at the mystery meat casserole which looked as if it was about to crawl of her tray. Her mood was brought on by two things: First, her presents had been trampled by dozens of feet in the halls ("My chocolate! Get off of that!) and second, _his _voice kept resounding in her head.

_I want to get to know _you, _Miss Parr._

You.

She shook her head roughly. This was part of his plan, she was positive. The only problem was she didn't have a clue as to what his "plan" was, and _that _made her angry.

"What in the world are you up to, Syndrome?" she whispered to herself, wracking her mind for ideas.

Nothing was coming.

The bell rang and she threw away her food (Why did she even bother with it?) and left her ruined presents in the lunchroom to be cleaned up by the custodians. Then, she trudged her way towards advanced chemistry, sulking the entire way.

_Great, I can't stop thinking about him and chemistry is next and I won't be able to do any of it and then I'll fail high school and I'll spend the rest of my life at my parent's house and I might as well just _die_…_

She stepped into the chemistry room, already prepared for the wall of heat that seemed to engulf the entire room. As always she took a seat in the furthest part of the room and pulled out her notebooks, still mulling and grumbling.

She stopped. Usually the teacher would play Mozart before the beginning of class, but there was no music. She looked up to see what the matter was and immediately Syndrome's eyes locked with her own. He grinned and she despaired.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, NO._

"No," she whined aloud, Syndrome chuckling.

"Yes," he replied before he turned around and began to write his name on the board: 'MR.BUDDY PINE'.

"That's wrong," she whispered without thinking, still shaking from his sudden appearance in what seemed every ounce of her life.

_I can't breathe. I can't _breathe_. Be angry, be _furious. _Be _anything_ but scared!_

He turned towards her, eyebrow rising. "Oh is it? I am pretty sure I know how to spell my name-"

"It's still wrong." Violet suddenly found herself coming up out of her chair-

-_What is _wrong_ with me?-_

_-_and walking towards the front of the room just as the students began to come in. She took the marker from his hands-

-_Don't look at me like that. I don't know what I'm doing either-_

_-_and then crossed out 'Buddy Pine' and underneath, in all caps, wrote 'SYNDROME.'

Then, even as he gaped at her with a potent mixture of disbelief and fury, even as the students looked to the board, to Syndrome, to her, and back again with shock, she slipped the marker back into his hands, went over to her desk, grabbed her back pack, and left the room without another word.

* * *

Bob sunk into his chair slowly after a long day's work. Rubbing his eyes, he reached towards the stack of mail piled neatly on the table next to him. He flipped through them, ignoring the bills, tossing the ads, briefly reading a postcard from Luscious, and then yawned as he came across a Clearwater High letter.

"Honey, Violet's grades are in," he called out as he tore the letter open. Accidentally, he burst it apart and with a curse he gathered the papers from the ground into his lap, searching for the all too familiar blue sheet.

"Ah, there you are," he said with a grin, pushing the bright pink paper aside and pulling Violet's grades up. A quick scan and his heart swelled. Straight A's again.

"How are the grades, honey?" said Helen, her head appearing around a nearby corner although one could still hear the sound of dishes being cleaned meters away.

"Perfect as always," waved Bob, folding the paper back up to be put into his growing collection of Violet's report cards. He then set about to cleaning up the mess he had made.

"Damn things are so flimsy. They never design anything with the average super in mind." He noticed the pink sheet again and picked it up, brow furrowing. He turned it around.

"Attention, Parents. This is of severe importance. A new teacher has joined our ranks, a genius and a helping soul who wishes to help our students thrive-"

And that was as far as he got when Violet suddenly burst through the door, her head and arms invisible. Immediately he stood up.

"Violet? What happened?"

The "floating" clothes froze and he could tell she was looking at him… maybe. "Vi, you're invisible."

Violet looked down at herself and faded back. What was revealed was an extremely distress girl who's eyes were puffy from crying.

Warning lights flashed everywhere in Bob's mind. "What happened to you?" he said, low and dangerous to anyone who had hurt his daughter.

Violet shook her head slowly and looked at the pink paper still in his hands. She pointed to it with a shaking finger, choking on her words, before she suddenly became invisible again and disappeared into her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

He heard the door lock.

He stood, stunned, before he brought the pink letter up to eye lever. He scanned quickly, purposefully, seeing what had triggered her to act so-

His eyes stopped. His fist clenched.

Helen peered around the corner and immediately dropped her dishes and the rest of her body followed her as she went into the living room where her husband stood staring _furiously _down at a pink piece of paper in his hands as if it was death itself.

"Honey-?"

The paper was engulfed within Bob's giant grasp. Two syllables were spat from his lips, his eyes drawing down into a most ferocious scowl.

"_Syndrome."_

Helen immediately took the paper from his hands, smoothed it out, and checked for herself. She read, saw his name, and the memo fell from her hands and drifted to the floor.

"Bob," she said quietly, quickly, "we need to go to the school. _Now."_

They were off speeding towards Clearwater High in seconds.

* * *

Violet lay curled up on her bed, a picture of Tony held tightly in her grasp. Her eyes stared unblinkingly at the door to her room. She lay still, unmoving, resilient. She was waiting.

Waiting for Syndrome to come into her room and kill her.

Her fingers tightened around the picture frame. She would die with Tony.

She heard her parents leave. They knew. They were going to go to the school. They were leaving her all alone to die at _his _hands.

_That's fine. It'll be too traumatizing for them to see me get beaten to death._

She didn't have a _clue _as to where this fear came from, but it was there. But, as the thought more about it as she awaited her death, she realized the thing she feared most was that Syndrome was not _just _Syndrome. Syndrome _was _Buddy Pine, and Buddy Pine was Syndrome.

Syndrome was a villain and killer. Buddy Pine was her teacher and human.

Syndrome got sucked into a turbine. Buddy Pine taught chemistry.

Two parts residing in one whole. One was after her blood while the other was probably furious with her for embarrassing him in front of his very first class.

She did not blink. Syndrome was coming for her. To kill her.

She did not blink… much. And she only shut her eyes for a little while just so she would be able to see her killer's face with clear clarity before she died.

She fell asleep, and Syndrome never came.

* * *

They were not allowed to enter the school until the day was done, so they sat parked outside, waiting patiently for the final bell to ring.

Three o'clock and they rushed up the stairs into the school. There were already parents standing outside of the principal's office, shouting and yelling very clearly about Syndrome, A.K.A Buddy Pine. Bob and Helen did not hesitate to join them.

"We will _not _allow a murderer to teach our children!" shrieked one woman, shaking her fist. "It's beyond me as to the reason why you hired him in the first place!"

Shouts of agreement followed and the principal (Bob could never remember his name) tried his best to calm everyone down.

"Now, now, you are fully aware that he has served his time…"

"He served nothing!" Bob shouted angrily, his voice rumbling through everyone's chests. "He's just a little rich weasel!"

Everyone shouted in agreement and the principal once again found himself overcome with angry voices from the teachers.

"Please, everyone, please-!"

"Excuse me."

Everyone silenced and turned as a whole towards the voice.

"I believe you're all arguing about me," said Syndrome, his eyes scanning everyone in the room. He looked… hurt. "Don't hurt Mr… The principal. He has a big job to do."

The mob faltered for a second, save Bob and Helen, before everyone riled up again.

"Get out of this school!" shouted an upset father. "You're poison for the children's minds!"

Syndrome ignored that man. At that moment his attention was turned solely towards Robert Parr. Something flashed behind his eyes, but it was hidden and unrecognizable.

Bob forced as much hatred into his gaze as he could, but still Syndrome did not cower. So, he opted for words.

"Buddy," spat Bob.

_That _rose a reaction from him, but it was small and disappointing- merely a twitch. Quickly, Syndrome regained his composure.

"You still hate me?" he asked, an air of disappointment on his words.

"Very much," was Bob's quick reply.

Syndrome sighed, running a hand through his hair- his _cut _hair. And his smile wasn't crooked anymore. For a moment, Bob actually thought he was a completely different person.

That thought was soon ruthlessly quashed.

"I _have _changed, despite popular opinion," said Syndrome, eyes almost pleading. He looked at the crowd in whole, sadness slumping in every part of his body.

"I… I have made too many mistakes in the past," he began heavily, his body messages screaming shame. "I thought that they were for the best, but that is no excuse for being wrong. I…" he was silent for a moment, overcoming his emotions, "I want to teach the children- the leaders of _our _future- _never _to do what I did. If I can impart some of my well-learned knowledge upon them, change at least _one _life for the better… I take solace that there is more good in this world to counter my past evil."

A long silence was drawn out, the angry parents all appearing very confused and unsettled. This was _not _Syndrome the Killer. Syndrome would _never _say anything like that.

This was Buddy Pine.

Buddy looked each and every one of the parents in the eyes. "I can never say sorry enough times to have forgiveness, but until the end of my days I want to at least _try _to make up for what I have done. It is a debt that is endless, but working towards that impossible goal is my punishment and my peace. So… please…"

He grew humble and bowed his head, everyone's eyes widening.

"Please, let me stay here."

A thick, uncomfortable silence filled the room. It was so strong, it replaced oxygen itself and hung heavily on everyone's chests.

Then, the woman from before finally spoke.

"I…" She looked extremely confused and shocked as she spoke. "I think... we should give him a chance."

There were a few shocked gasps, but not many, much to Bob's fury. Instead, there were slow nods of agreement and a couple murmurs here and there about how Syndrome _had _changed.

"No," said Bob suddenly, the murmuring quieting. Buddy looked up, something flashing in his eyes before quieting.

"I don't care what he says," spat Bob, gesturing towards Buddy. "He's a liar and he will _always _be a killer. You're all swayed by some heart-felt _monologue _and you don't even bother to remember just _what he did!"_

There was an awkward silence, but nobody agreed with Bob. Not a single one of them.

"We've got to at least give him a chance," said a man as Bob began to shake with fury. "We need to be fair-"

_"Fair?!" _roared Bob, ignoring the slight cry from Helen. "This isn't anything about _fair! _Do you think _he _was fair? Do you think he gave all of those innocents an _equal chance? Do you?!"_

"Mr. Parr," said the principal, "majority rules. Mr. Pine stays."

_"Fine," _seethed Bob, turning and pinning Buddy with an extremely dark and frightening gaze, one that made the former villain cringle only slightly. "He can stay. _You _can all deal with him. Our family won't-"

"Bob, there isn't another school for miles," whispered Helen.

"I don't care," he said quickly, turning back towards Buddy. "I refuse to let Violet stay here under this… _monster's _watch."

For some reason, and Bob wouldn't know for a _very _long time what that reason was, Buddy reacted to Violet's departure _violently. _Not rage, or at least as much as he could see, but almost… Determined?

"You can't do that," whispered Buddy suddenly, his voice was low and firm.

Bob, sensing a weakness, growled at him. "I can do whatever I please. She's _my _daughter and _you're _to stay away from her, this entire school for that matter." He glared at the walls around him.

Buddy did not move. "She stays."

Shock.

"Are you… Are you actually telling _me, _her _father, _what to do?"

"It's her decision, not yours."

"Yeah?" snorted Bob, recalling Violet's dramatic entrance minutes before. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be here. She came in crying and-"

-_Normal teenagers don't go invisible-_

_"_-and sobbing," he stumbled. "She wants _nothing _to do with this school, nothing to do with _you."_

Something was rising within Buddy's gaze. Some emotion- an _intense _emotion. Bob's eyes widened slightly when he saw the edges of it peak and he held is breath, waiting-

"I'm staying."

Everyone turned.

* * *

Violet woke up a little over an hour later, her mind fuzzy. She blinked and sat up, rubbing her cheek where the picture frame had left a slight imprint on her skin. She looked down at her clock.

Two thirty.

She listened and heard no one. Her parents were still at the school.

Slowly, she sank back down onto the bed, her eyes trained above her, staring at the small spots of popcorn plaster on her ceiling. She was deep and thought. In her mind, she floated above her thoughts, watching from an aerial view as everything came together, all the facts and the lies and the small details and emotions that threaded themselves into everything.

And then, her earlier revelation came into mind.

_Syndrome is dead. Buddy Pine is alive._

And then she realized that she had no choice but give the bastard a chance.

She quickly got out of bed, shoved her feet into her sneakers, and ran out of the house as fast as she could to the school.

_I'm crazy, _she told herself as her feet hit the pavement. _Insane, actually. What am I doing? WHY am I doing this? I'm going to regret this. I'm going to regret this and he's going to turn into Syndrome and then he's going to kill me and I'll be dead because I'm doing this._

She kept going. And going. And going until she was standing outside of the school, panting heavily.

_If I wasn't a super, I would have passed out, _said a dazed voice in her head before she jogged up the steps and threw open the front doors. She was greeted by the incensed voice of Buddy.

_Incensed?_

"It's her decision, not yours," said Buddy. Violet couldn't see his face, his back was to her, but she could imagine very well what his face looked like just by the tone of his voice.

_He sounds… desperate._

"Yeah?" Her father's voice and he sounded _mad. _"I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be here. She came in crying and… and sobbing. She wants _nothing _to do with this school and nothing to do with _you."_

_I want to get to know _you, _Miss Parr._

_You._

Violet's breath hitched. She, for some unexplainable, irrational, foolish, idiotic, silly, _extremely _stupid reason… wanted to get to know him, too.

Suddenly, her mouth opened, and before she could stop herself she said, "I'm staying."

All eyes turned on her, but her gaze was directed solely on Buddy. His smart blue eyes, that amazed look on his face-

_Who are you, Buddy Pine? I want to know. _Why she wanted to know? God only knew, but she had an inkling it had to do with that bemused twitch on his lips that kept getting more and more pronounced with each shocked second that ticked on by.

_I know there's something going on in that brain of yours, Buddy Pine. I'm not blind. But… maybe that's just Syndrome. Not you, Buddy. Not you._

Something was exchanged between them. A thought passed- shared- and Violet thought she knew what he was up to, but it was gone, a cloud dissolved by the wind. But she did have one truth.

_I'm part of whatever Syndrome is planning._

The revelation frightened and… and _excited _her.

"What did you say?" asked her father suddenly, breaking the eye contact between her and Buddy. She startled and looked towards him.

"I'm staying," she said, although not as strongly as the first time.

So many emotions on her father's face. Anger, confusion, sadness… disappointment. She didn't like that last one at all.

"Why?" was all he asked.

Violet looked at him, to her mother whose own emotions were schooled under a mask of mild surprise, and then she looked over to Buddy who, yet again, pinned her with that sharp blue gaze of his.

_His eyes are so blue, like the skies on a spring day._

"I…" _Don't know. _"…I want to see."

She saw her father's mouth open to ask, "Why?" but she stopped him.

"It's complicated," she interrupted, forcing herself to blink so she could turn her face back to her father. "Just… trust me, okay?"

Her father flinched at her words and Violet knew that he could no longer fight her. His head bowed.

"…Alright, Vi. You win."

Violet nodded and looked back towards Buddy who was looking at her so… so strangely. Her eyes moved slightly, a silent, _What?_

Buddy blinked and, shook his head slightly. _Nothing at all._

Violet tried to stop from frowning.


	5. Nightshade

A/N: I'm not a review hog by all means, but if you've got the time, I would really appreciate it if you left me one or two comments on the story, just so that I know people are actually reading/enjoying/hating this story. :)

* * *

**Chapter Five: Nightshade**

_"(She) strangled me with her eyes, I'm poisoned as she passes by"_

_"Black Poison Bloody" by Kill Hannah  
_

* * *

The day had gone… 

_Just as well as monkeys conducting a symphony._

It had the potential to go better, but it went relatively well. There were a couple moments where he wished he could spin back the clock ("You are to call me Mr. Pine, _**not**__ Syndrome!"_) but he handled the situations with as much grace as anything else he did.

_A couple acting exercises, a practiced monologue, and I still have a job. _He _had _been slightly frightened (_Hah, I don't frighten_), when Mr. Incredible had attempted to take Violet from the school, and that would have ruined everything.

But…

"She _wanted _to stay."

She, giving _him, _a chance? She was foolish and it disturbed him. However, what startled and unnerved him even more were her eyes.

They had exchanged so much in that short time when she had suddenly cried out her declaration. Their locked gazes- that unadulterated information that had passed between them, without lies, without any hate or happiness, just pure feeling…

He knew, with a strange fluttering of his stomach, that _she _had taken the initiative and started step two, _not him._

She was _helping _him

"Step one," he murmured to himself, staring up at his ceiling, "approach your target."

_Approached and knocked her to the ground._

"Step two…" He paused, recalling that look she had given him, that questioning _What? _in her eyes.

She had caught him staring at her.

He remembered that complete feeling of astonishment when she sided with him, the girl that would be a most important part of his revenge. She had, yet again, shifted and altered from child to adult, sometimes doing so in the space of a second. It was just as quick and sudden as her shift from fear to anger. He didn't know how she did it. Either way, it was that startling change in personality that had ultimately caused Mr. Incredible to bow.

_If only you knew what you were doing, Miss Parr._

But she had an inkling. That had been his fault. His guard had dropped for only a second- a _second- _and she had pierced his thoughts and drug forth secrets that could destroy everything.

And for the barest of moments- a most terrifying moment- he _let _herlook.

He didn't have a choice. Somehow, after all of that shock and surprise, he lost himself within her eyes.

_And what peculiar eyes they are. A deep violet, rich like twilight._

He knew that she had been staring, too.

"Step two," he said again with a grin, placing his hands behind his head, letting a part of his mind drift through fogs of purple, "build social value."

He was doing that to her.

_She _had started to do that to _him_.

He wasn't so sure he liked that or not. He liked to hold all of the cards, but somehow that girl had stolen an ace from him and was holding it tightly against her breast. He had no way of getting it back.

"I have plenty of cards," he grumbled, "I just wish I had hers."

The sound of his phone ringing startled him out of his thoughts.

"Er- answer."

"Sir," said the voice of the head of security, "there's a young lady just outside of the gates."

_Oh really? _"What does she look like?"

"Hmm." Buddy imagined the guard zooming the camera in. "She's… she's a docile looking thing. Long black hair reaching the small of her back…"

He already knew who she was before he even began to describe her, but for some reason he would rather not share, he let the guard continue in his description, his eyes closing and forming the image of Violet in his mind.

"What else?" murmured Buddy lethargically.

"Ah, let's see... She has a slender frame. Reminds me a bit like a gymnast, but loads more delicate. She's average height, about a head shorter than you, sir."

_She was standing before him, the top of her head brushing against his chin_

"Anything else?" whispered Buddy, his hand unconsciously coming up to rub his jaw.

"Hmm, I don't think so- well, except her eyes. They're round and… wow, and they're purple! You hardly ever see that. They're the same color as the violets in the garden. Wow…

_Her eyes looked up into his, and something passed between them, something without a name._

"Alright," said Buddy quietly, his voice a little hoarse. "See what she wants. Keep me on the line. I want to hear what she has to say."

"Yessir." There was the click of a button, then, "State your name and your business."

Buddy could imagine Violet startling at the voice. Her voice sounded much more fragile over the intercom.

_Why are you so fragile?_

"I'm here to see Bu- I mean, Mr. Pine," she stumbled, clearly nervous. "He… lives here, right?"

The outside sounds disappeared for a moment. "Do you want me to let her in, sir?"

Buddy grinned, shaking his head and chuckling with disbelief. She was making this _too __**easy. **_

"Of course. Don't want to keep a lady waiting."

The intercom clicked on again. "Yes, this is Mr. Pine's residence. Please stand back as I open the gates. Someone will come and fetch you. Please be patient. Thank you." The intercom cut off completely. "Sir," said the guard, "who is she?"

"Who is she?" Buddy sat up out of his bed and crossed into his bathroom, opening his cabinet and squeezing some gel into his hands before quickly brushing it across his hair and styling it, slicking it back. The cabinet door shut and Syndrome's reflection smirked back at him.

"She, my good man, is our most _honored _guest."

If things went smoothly, he had a good chance to complete step two of his plot for revenge. If things were mirror smooth, then he might even be able to go onto step three. It all depended on a little bit of skill, luck, and Miss Parr's attitude.

_You need to take this slow, _said a rational part of his mind. _She's young- so very young. Tread carefully and cautiously and don't do anything too frightening. You know she's as fragile as the most delicate of glass. Be empathetic, listen to her every word, and try not to screw things up._

That last line had been taught to him by his mentor. He never screwed up.

There was an announcing chime and he looked one last time at himself at the mirror, carefully putting his appearance into order-

_Big head._

He frowned at the sudden thought. _My head is not big. _He pushed the voice out of his mind and, with one last look in the mirror, Buddy shut off all of the lights with a quick voice command and made his way out of his room and down the stairs to the main hall.

Violet stood in the middle of the room, gaping at the size and beauty of his home. He could see that she was trying to estimate just how high his ceiling went. Then she began to wander a little, taking careful looks at different knick knacks that were sitting around decorating the space. She stopped and stared at the magnificent Picasso painting hanging right next to his holographic fireplace when he finally decided to make himself known.

"You really don't think when you enter the lion's cave, do you?"

Violet spun around, startled, before her cheeks tinged a slight pink. "I… I guess," she stuttered before looking around her, at him, and then down at her feet. She began to shake.

"Maybe this wasn't such a great idea."

"Idea?" His eyebrow arched. "Enlighten me. Perhaps it will explain your unprecedented, yet welcome appearance in my _humble _abode."

Her eyes darted up towards his for the briefest moments before she stared determinedly at her feet. "No… no this wasa _bad_ idea. I should go-"

A few quick strides and Buddy was in her path, his arms crossed, appearing to be slightly offended although it was all in jest. "Don't insult me like this," he teased (although he was partially serious). "Stay for at least a while. Maybe if we share a quick drink, you'll be more willing to talk."

Violet kept trying to stare at her feet, but the longer Buddy stood there, the weaker her resolve grew. Finally, she looked up at him, her wide eyes defeated.

"Alright," she sighed. "You win."

He grinned and, much to her shock (which in turn delighted him), he offered out his arm. She stared at it as if it was the fin of a shark.

"Oh, come on now, I'm not going to lean over and bite your head off." He waggled his arm a little bit. "Just take it. I'm being nice." He gave her a look. "You know I am perfectly capable of being mean if that's what you prefer."

She took his arm quickly.

Buddy led her to the kitchens, but he purposefully took the long way. He wanted to see just how long it would take for her to get used to his touch.

_And visa versa, _said an annoyed voice when he realized his arm was surprisingly tense.

She looked… well, if he had to describe it in any way, she looked like she was being led up to the gallows. At first it offended him, but then he began to look at it from a different perspective. Yes, she shook more than a leaf in fall, but she was clutching onto him as if he was her last lifeline. She appeared torn in two; fear the man, or fear the large house with all the different random sounds of electronics that sounded very familiar to his former hideout.

She felt her grip tighten and he suppressed a grin.

They arrived at the kitchens (neither of them were comfortable in each other's presence yet). It was surprisingly empty. Not even Geoffry was there.

"I suppose I am going to have to be your server for today," he said, pulling away from her and going over to one of the three fridges on the left wall. He moved slowly so that Violet could have time to admire the pristine beauty of his kitchen, explore the different exotic plants hanging from the ceiling, run her hands across the polish black marble counters, and bathe in the warm spring light flowing threw the ceiling to floor windows.

"It must be fun being rich."

He shrugged as he dropped two handfuls of ice into identical crystal cups. Freshly squeezed orange juice followed. "It has its benefits," he said, keeping his ego in check as he added lemon lime soda to the orange juice.

"And all this money… I thought NSA froze all of your accounts-" She bit her lip and looked hesitantly towards him, worried she had said something to anger him.

It was irritating that she had reminded him of the millions of dollars lost, but it passed. "I do business outside of the states," he said gruffly, slightly uncomfortable with the thread of conversation. "The NSA couldn't touch anything over seas." He picked up the glasses, the ice tinkling softly against the crystal, and he handed her one.

She stared at it, unmoving.

"Well?" He gestured towards her with the glass, slightly vexed. "Are you going to take it or admire it?"

She still hadn't moved and he saw that a whole bunch of thoughts were swarming in her mind, all winding down into a mixture of bewilderment.

_Okay… _

"It's not poisoned, just to let you know."

She shook her head slowly, still staring at the glass. "That's not it."

"Okay, then what is it?"

She looked up at him hesitantly and she saw two spots of pink appear on her cheeks. "Well… it's just that… you were once my enemy, and now you're standing in front of me offering me a virgin cooler. It's kind of awkward when you don't say anything."

He blinked and then laughed, much to her surprise. He simply offered out the glass again, still chuckling, and she eventually took it.

"Alright," he began, taking a sip of his own glass before setting it down. "Why are you here?"

Violet stared down into her cup for a moment before she took a hesitant sip. Her eyebrows went up slightly and he felt a sort of pleasing satisfaction when she took another drink.

"Why am I here?" she restated, gently setting down her glass. "The truth is I'm not exactly sure."

_Liar. _"You're not exactly sure," he repeated with dry humor.

She looked up shyly and then turned in her seat to face the counter, her lead leaning over her cup as she took another drink. "I guess I… wanted to apologize?" It came out as a question and she looked down unsure at her glass.

Buddy's eyebrow arched. "Apologize?"

A pause, and then her head nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's why I'm here." She nodded her head firmer this time. "Almost positive."

Buddy stared at Violet even as he drank from his cup. Was this girl for real? "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yeah, I do." Her face was quickly lighting up faster than a Christmas tree. "For the…" She made a drawing motion with her hands. "The… name thing. And then for storming out of the classroom."

Buddy chuckled slightly, much to her surprise. He was grinning and stood up, feeling even more laughter begin to bubble in his chest. "Oh, you don't need to apologize about that."

"…What?"

"I mean, you've already atoned."

More confusion. "What- no I didn't."

He turned towards her, eyes shinning. "Well, not _yet _at least."

She shook slightly, perhaps with fear? Or maybe… _maybe something else. _Unconsciously, a twinge of excitement pulled in his stomach.

_A little more urging, dangle the bait carefully and… _

A mischievous grin danced across his mouth. "Tell me, Miss Parr, how do _you_ think you should repay me after my public humiliation?"

The inflexions of his voice- the sliding smoothness of each pronounced syllable- frightened the girl. It was very clear to her in her ever widening eyes. Each word he treated with the utmost care, always careful to not overdo it too much but to leave just enough of the hidden emotion so that she could not ignore what he said. Rather, she could not forget.

"I- I don't know," she said with a voice so timid and scared, Buddy couldn't help but feel immediate satisfaction.

"You don't know, do you? Are you sure?" He took a step closer to her. _Make her uncomfortable, make her squirm. You hold all the power, not her. _

"Well?"

Her eyes darted across the room to the pots, the pans and the cups and the windows and the plants, everywhere- _everywhere_ else but him. "I don't know," she whispered, her hands shaking slightly.

_That's right, let your mind wander. Fill in your own blanks. _He let her drown in her thoughts for a little while. He'd watch her flail as she tried to figure out what he was doing to her and then he would pull her out just before she lost consciousness.

_And I believe that time would be now._

After all of that build up, the teasing tones, the insinuated meanings, after building her up and spinning her thoughts around and around, her anxiety and her fear and the feeling that he knew he was creating- that uncomfortable _wanting_… he let her drop unceremoniously.

"You'll be serving detention for a week with me," he said simply, turning into his glass and taking a drink just as her dumbfounded look began to creep into her features. "You'll help me clean up the lab benches, organize all the materials, and your lunch will be spent with me." He gave her a look. "Maybe after a week with me you'll learn to respect me."

Violet stared at him. She didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even make a noise. Just stared.

Then, "I respect you."

It had been spoken so quietly, like the fluttering of a butterfly's wings, but to Buddy she might as well have screamed it.

"…What?"

She repeated herself again, her voice just as quiet, but perhaps a little shakier than last time. "I respect you."

"I _heard_ what you said," he bit out sharply without even thinking. "But _why?_"

Violet flinched away from him. _That's fine. Let her be scared. She deserves it for stealing yet _another _one of my cards!_

"I just… do," she answered lamely.

An aggravated look dominated his eyes. "You just do. That's your answer?"

Her head nodded hesitantly.

_Fantastic. _"Freakin' fantastic," he grumbled out loud to himself, ignoring the confused look she was giving him. _She's making it easier and harder all at the same time… Damn her. _He looked down into his glass and gulped it dry before angrily crunching down on the ice, his mouth moving up and down as he glared down at the cup in his hands.

"Did I… Did I say something wrong?"

_Yes._

"No."

His answer didn't ease her. He was obviously still peeved. "Well… sorry, anyways."

_Why do you keep doing that?_

He grunted. It was best not to exaggerate the situation.

He suddenly wanted someone else- anyone else- to fill up the awkward space that was steadily building in the kitchen, but nobody was there.

"Where is everyone?" he grumbled, frowning at the thought of his workers screwing around God knows where. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his palm pilot. He tapped his screen a few times, selected his calendar, and searched.

"Oh yeah, they're all down at the hospital."

"Hospital?"

Buddy looked up at her, slightly startled by her. Her fear had suddenly been replaced with actual interest- as if she was beginning a _real _conversation with him, not some scripted part of his plans. It was so… peculiar.

"Er, yes. Geoffry's wife is having triplets. Everyone is waiting for them to be born. They should actually be due any time now."

Violet nodded, but suddenly her face grew sad. Instinctively, he asked, "What?"

She looked down at her cup and took another sip. She traced her finger along the different veins in the marble counters, her face melancholy. "A year ago, when I went in for my first… my first 'female' check-up," she said gingerly, her face blushing slightly, "I found out that… that I can't have children."

Buddy's mind seemed to hit a bump. _She… she didn't just tell me that… did she? _But she did, and he saw that almost teary eyed look she had and immediately his heart went out for her without him giving a second though.

"That's… I'm sorry," he said, taking a seat next to her. "I mean, I don't really know about that… that kind of thing at _all-"_

-They shared a chuckle-

"-but I think I have a pretty good idea about how you feel." A thought, then, "Did they say why?"

"Yeah, but there were too many big words that I just told them to give me the basics. Basically, I have "bad blood and bones,"" she put the last part in physical quotations with her fingers, "and having a kid would kill me." She waved her hand in the air, brushing away her irritation. "It's something to do with me being a super. Mom was able to have me because… well…"

"She can stretch," he finished.

"Yeah." She sighed and her head sunk into her arms. "But I guess I'm okay with not being able to have children. I mean, it would be an experience- an amazing one- but I'm lucky just to even _exist."_

Buddy found himself staring at the girl as if he had never seen her before. He would think he had figured something out about her, and then she'd pull a one-eighty and he'd be left in the middle of the road wondering just what the hell had happened. He was there, right now, trying to figure out what to do next.

Truth be told, he had no idea.

Everything was going backwards and forwards and sideways and upways and every other way, inside and out, just not _his _way. His mind was spinning and his brain was fighting valiantly to keep up, but Violet was not giving him a chance for pause.

"You know, I used to have a boyfriend. Tony Rydinger was his name." A look of depression crossed her face, even though she was smiling softly. He noticed her thumb began to rub over her wrist through the sleeve of her shirt.

_Why is she wearing a shirt when it's almost eighty degrees out?_

"We'd talk all the time about how we were going to get married after school, get our own place, have kids- oh, I didn't know about my condition then- and then we'd grow old, our grandchildren dancing at our feet." She sighed heavily and her eyes shimmered slightly. "It was a beautiful dream. It's my favorite one, too. But…" her voice trailed off, ending in a whisper. "It's a dream nonetheless."

What was going _on? _Buddy didn't know, and it was unnerving him beyond belief. _Step two- _she's _doing step two, not me! _He had to jump in quickly before something terrible happened and he would become _her _pawn-

"I remember having talks with Mirage about that kind of thing."

He had said Mirage's name without hesitation. It was a good thing too because Violet's interest was already intensely on him. If he had faltered, he wouldn't hear the end of her questions.

"Mirage… Do I know her?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, "maybe not. Your _dad _knows her, though." Okay, so he hadn't _totally _gotten over Mirage, but he was at a good start.

"My dad knew her?" She put her finger to her chin in thought. "Hmm… Oh! I remember him talking about her. He said that it was thanks to her that-" Her words caught in her throat and immediately her mouth snapped shut.

Buddy was not an idiot. He gave her a pinning, knowing look and she flushed bright red.

"Uh… go on," she mumbled, discreetly fanning herself when Buddy closed his eyes and shook his head with amused disbelief.

"Yes, well," he began again, Violet taking a keen interest a pot hanging on the wall, "before Mirage decided to play double-agent with me, we were actually really… really close."

Something tugged at his heart and he inwardly scowled. He would get over her even if it killed him, but… but a small part of him, a part of him that was almost dead, loved the memories of her.

"She was there when no one else was. She helped me onto my feet and gave me a push in the right direction just when I was starting to find my own place in the world. She understood me," he chuckled, "or at least tried to understand me. That was more than what anyone offered me-"

"Did you love her?"

Buddy froze. A long, oh so long pause.

"...You know," he began slowly after a long moment, "she was my business partner, confidant, best friend, and my lover. Yes, I loved her, but never once did those words pass between us."

Violet's eyes widened. "You… you never said I love you?"

Buddy laughed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "No, I didn't, but sometimes I wish I had. Maybe if I did, she wouldn't have…"

Sadness tore at his stomach simmering slightly with his anger. He wouldn't be able to completely forget Mirage. She had been his first love, after all. But he was so sick and tired of her shadow constantly hovering over the back of his mind.

_Leave me alone, Mirage!_

Suddenly, a hand was upon his and he jerked his face towards Violet whose eyes were filled with understanding. Understanding… but no pity. None what so ever.

And _that _was what made the shadow fade.

"I lost my love as well," said Violet quietly, "but… but to something else. Something far more powerful."

Buddy's attention was split in three: One piece of it was sighing with the relief, finally free from his guilt from Mirage, another was focused on the intensity of Violet's eyes, and the other was concentrating on the soft feel of her skin on top of his.

_Sensory overload. Much more of this and I'm done for._

"What took him?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes shimmered. "Death," was her equally soft reply.

Everything began to focus on her. Her touch, her eyes.

_How can her eyes be that purple? It's impossible. _

"How?"

"He was hit by a truck," she said. Something crossed her eyes, a sad, forlorn feeling. Dark, depressing…

_Just like my guilt._

"Hey," he said suddenly, startling Violet. He took hold of her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. She tried to look away, but he forced her to look at him with a quick push of his hand against her chin.

"You knew how I felt about Mirage," he said, his eyes pinning her. _You can't escape me, now. _"You understood. Now, when the tables are turned and you are forced to analyze yourself, why won't you let your guilt go?"

Violet's eyes widened and her whole body stiffened. Briefly, alarm flared in his mind and he prepared to catch her when she tried to flee, but that never happened. Instead, he watched with pure amazement, Violet's eyes fill with tears.

He stared and watched the crystalline-like droplets swell in the corners of her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. He followed the path of the tear up and his breath hitched when he saw her eyes.

_Her eyes…_

Like the richest velvet of royal robes. Pieces of darkening sky finding a home in her gaze. Splashes of paint from a magical pallet. The most expensive wines in Italy. Twilight sparkling.

_Like the petals of nightshade. _

And God damn him forever, she was poisoning him. Infecting him.

Oh, a part of him was furious, so very, very _furious, _but at that moment, he did not care. The poison was in his blood, was running up to his brain, and was spreading through his entire body. He was drawing closer to her, unable to pull away from the deadly flower that had turned the tables and put him in _her _place.

_What are you doing to me, Violet? Dammit, your skin is too soft, your eyes too purple. God dammit, dammit it all to hell! Why are you doing this? How? I'm going crazy. Insane. Everything is going to fall apart because of you and God damn me to hell, I don't care-_

"B-Buddy- Mr. Pine," she whispered, "w-what are you doing?"

_Huh?_

He blinked back into awareness and saw with a sort of detached feeling that his hand had been wiping away her tears, but her cheeks had long since dried and he had still continued to caress her skin.

He stared at the hand. That couldn't possibly be his.

_You're losing, Buddy. _

And then everything collapsed and realization dawned on him and he snatched his hand back and pulled as far away as possible without leaving his stool because somehow, the scheming part of him had still _some _control over his body.

_She needs to go. Now._

"I think it's time you leave," said Buddy, absolutely _refusing _to look into Violet's eyes once more.

"…Oh… Okay…" He heard her confusion. That was no surprise. Had he been her, he would have been very confused indeed.

"Go through those doors over there," he said with a wave of his hand. "They'll lead you right to the main hall." It didn't occur to him that he had just revealed that he had purposefully led her on an overly long path to the kitchen for whatever reasons, but at that moment he was aware of only a few things- _important _things. But there was one truth that stood out in his mind:

Violet was a distraction.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

Buddy did not reply.

He sat there for the longest time, listening to the sounds of doors opening and closing as Violet made her way out. Then, when he heard the great entrance doors shut, he wheeled around on the ball of his foot, snatched a pot off the wall, and began to break everything in sight.

_This wasn't supposed to happen. _He punctuated his thoughts with the shattering of a ceramic pots and sugar jars. _**I**__ was supposed to seduce her. __**I **__was the one who was supposed to dig my claws into her, not the other way around!! _The handle to the pot broke off, so he threw it at a collection of decorative plates on the wall, not feeling even the least bit of satisfaction as they came crashing to the ground.

_She is seducing _me.

_You still have the upper hand, _said a soothing voice in his head. _Yes, she's stolen more of your cards, but you still have the power. Lay down a few choice hands, keep your poker face up, and…_

"I'll win." Syndrome straightened his back, his eyes darkening with determination. "I _will _seduce Violet Parr. I _will _get my revenge!"

An evil, devious grin twisted his face. It grew bigger and bigger until he was downright maniacal. Then, he laughed, a horrible, blood curdling laugh.

"Watch out, _Miss Parr, _because I'm coming after _you!_"


	6. Distractions

* * *

**Chapter Six: Distractions**

_"In your eyes, I am complete."_

_"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel_

* * *

No matter how many glasses of warm milk she drank, no matter how many times she replayed Braham's Lullaby, no matter how many sheep she counted, she _could not fall asleep. _Why? Because the image of Buddy Pine absolutely refused to leave her alone. 

_What in the world is he doing? _Whatever it was, it reminded her of the romantic movies she sometimes saw with her mother, when the masked crusader tried to tempt the beautiful maiden.

_Except that's completely impossible, especially considering that this is _Buddy Pine.

But… she had felt something so… so _strange, _as if someone had taken hold of her throat and cut off her air supply. She remembered feeling so dizzy, all of the blood in her body rushing to her head, his smooth voice caressing each and every part of her mind. Then, there had been his hand. His firm hand stroking the sensitive skin of her cheek…

Her hands had begun to hurt. She looked down and realized that she was clutching her comforter with startling strength. At least, that's what she felt. Right then she was invisible.

She dropped her blanket and scrambled to sit up, kicking her covers off and flipping on her bedside lamp. She quickly snatched up her picture of Tony and grasped it tightly in her hands, looking at it pleadingly.

"Tony, what in the world is wrong with me?" she asked desperately, shaking the frame slightly. "Why won't he leave me alone?"

Tony had no answers for her. He remained silent and always smiling. Of course he could not help her, he was just a picture.

_Well, thanks anyway. _She gently placed the picture back down onto her bedside table, but she did not slide back down into her covers. Instead, she tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, staring morosely from the tops of her knees at the wall before her.

_He had made me feel so funny. I've never felt that kind of feeling before except from… _Her eyes widened fractionally.

"Except from Tony," she groaned before she shoved her face into the backs of her legs.

The situation wasn't entirely bad. She had done something to him, she was positive. That was obvious enough when she had so suddenly been kicked out of his house- taking a rather short path from the kitchen, no less.

_What was that all about? He took me on a miniature journey through his house- mansion, rather- when a perfectly nice door leading straight to the kitchens was right in the main hall. _It had to be another part of his plans, she was sure.

Suddenly, a thought.

_He isn't trying to…_

She immediately dismissed it as absolutely _absurd. _She even chuckled at herself for thinking such a thing. "No, he wouldn't do that," she said, shaking her head against her knees. "Vi, you need sleep."

So, she finally curled back underneath her covers and eventually drifted off.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of her alarm. Bleary-eyed, she reached out blindly for her alarm clock, her fingers searching for the off button. Eventually, she found it, cutting the annoying beeping off. For a minute, she dozed off, her hand still on top of the alarm, before she woke up again and pushed herself out of bed, shuffling her way to the bathroom. 

_Shower, _announced her mind that was still stumbling about. She went through her morning routine instinctively, her mind and body having already memorized each and every step and movement she needed to make before she suddenly found herself at the kitchen table fully dressed and staring down into a half-eaten bowl of corn flakes, her hair still slightly wet.

"Violet, I'm not going to ask you again!"

Violet looked up feeling as if she had suddenly resurfaced from a long dive. "….Huh?"

Her mother sighed, setting down her coffee mug. "I _said _are you sure you want to go to school? We can always enroll you in another one."

"Any one at all," said her father with a bit of an edge to his voice. He sat at the end of the table, his newspaper put down. "I don't care if I have to sell both my kidneys. If I could get you away from that… _school, _of yours, I would even sell my soul."

"You'd be dead either way," stated Violet before continuing to eat her bowl of cereal. "No, I want to stay."

Her mom and dad exchanged looks, but she ignored them. They had been more than upset when she had told them about the detentions she had to serve and had almost been removed from the school whether she liked it or not. She had to convince them with more than just a bit of groveling for them to reluctantly allow her to continue to enroll at Clearwater.

She finished up her breakfast and slipped into her shoes just as she heard the familiar puttering of the school bus outside.

"Last chance," said her mother, leaning against the doorway. "Vi, you know that this is… is very strange for us."

"I know," said Violet, shrugging on her backpack. She looked up at her mother. "I'm sorry, but… but I feel that I have to do this. Even if I wanted to go to another school, I know something wouldn't let me." She shrugged. "I don't know any other way to explain myself."

Her mother shook her head, but reached out and hugged her tightly. "Have a good day." She suddenly put Violet at arm's length, her face growing serious and almost scary. "If he lays even a finger on you, Violet, you tell me and I will come down there and punch him so hard that that giant head of his will be reduced to a caved in mess."

"Of course," said Violet, refraining from laughing. _She's trying to be serious, Violet._

Her mom regained her loving composure and kissed her on the top of her head. "Then get going before you miss the bus."

"Love ya, Mom," said Violet quickly before she rushed out to the bus just as its doors began to close.

"Cutting it a little close, now are ya?" commented the bus driver before he released the air lock and began to drive once more. Violet lurch forward and stumbled but thankfully Kari's seat wasn't too far away, so she fell into it easily.

"Morning," Violet said a little breathlessly before she quickly began to fix her hair. _Could have given me a little moment to find my seat…_

"Morning, Vi." Kari seemed slightly awkward, perhaps a little tense and fidgety, which was weird. Violet realized that she hadn't talked to her friend yet about her little 'incident' with Pine the other day.

Violet sighed. "Well, aren't you going to ask me-"

"Why'd you do that in chem??" asked Kari in a rush, excitement causing her voice to tremble. "Oh my gosh Vi, _everybody's _talking about it. I wasn't there- I had lunch duty that day, what luck- but all the kids are saying that Mr. Pine looked _mad._"

"He had every right to be mad. I pretty much stomped on his pride and everything else that keeps his ego inflated. It must have been an experience for him." She looked over at Kari. "But that doesn't mean I feel good about it and I'm paying for it anyway. Guess who got detention?"

Kari hissed in pain and Violet nodded morosely. "How long?"

"A week."

Another hiss, bigger and longer. "Ouch, Vi. Detention is bad enough, but with _him _is just…" She shuddered.

Oddly enough, Violet didn't mind that part of it very much at all, but she kept that little tidbit of information to herself. _I don't even want to think about it…_

The bus stopped on the corner of a street and more kids entered the bus. "So, why'd you do it?" asked Kari.

Violet hadn't really worked out the bumps in _that _road yet, but… "I guess I just felt upset that a villain like Syndrome was trying to pass himself off as a 'good guy' but, more importantly, a _different _guy, somebody who was trying to cut ties with an old shadow. It was like a mockery to social and biological law." She remembered sitting in her desk and watching with detached horror the letters of his name begin to form across the white board. "When I saw him write his name, something in me rebelled and I… I guess I kind of lost it."

"_Kind _of? Vi, you can hardly _frown _at a person."

"Thank you, Kari. You're so kind."

"Okay, okay, sorry. I'm at least _trying _to help." Kari tapped her chin with thought. "So, you're going to stay in that class, right?" Her eyebrows arched slightly. "Or…?"

"I'm staying." Violet had figured this out quite a while ago.

"Good because I absolutely refuse to let you leave me alone in that class. Oh my gosh, chemistry is so hard! Why did I let you talk me into taking that class?"

"_You _talked _me _into taking the class because you thought all the labs would be fun."

"Yeah," whined Kari, "but I didn't know there was so much _math!_"

And almost seamlessly Violet slipped back into the role of the normal teenager, not one that was always listening for a cry of help, practiced her powers behind the bleachers of her school, or kept daydreaming about former villains and their amazingly blue eyes.

Well… she _almost _forgot about the eyes.

By the time they got to the school, Violet was feeling much better about life. It was only when she stepped off the bus and saw a familiar back and head of orange hair disappear into the front doors did everything come back to her in one giant wave. Thoughts and feelings tumbled around her and crashed down onto her shoulders and her lungs and all the blood rushed to her head, making her feel so hot and _dizzy_-

"Vi?" A voice, maybe, but she couldn't tell. Was that a hand waving in front of her eyes? "Vi? Yoo hoo! Violet!"

"Yeah?" Violet heard her own voice. Funny, she didn't remember talking.

She felt Kari's gaping stare on the side of her head when, suddenly, she said, "Oooooohh…!"

That drew her attention out of her scrambled thoughts. "Huh? What?"

A sly look was on her friend and if they had been in a cartoon, she would have had little fangs and perhaps a couple horns. "You _like _someone!" Quickly, she searched the crowd. "Which one, which one! Ooh! Is it Joey Hartmire? No, he's not your taste… or is he?"

Violet watched her friend for a moment, trying to fix up her already tattered mind _and _gather up all this other information that had been thrown into her face. When the rest of it registered and plopped right down into the middle of the pool of her thoughts like a giant rock, she blushed so fiercely it was a miracle she didn't get a nosebleed.

_"I don't like him!!" _she bit out, practically screaming. But that produced the opposite reaction. Kari turned to her on the verge of excited girl-giggles.

"I _knew _it!!" she squealed. "Okay, you _have _to tell me. Please, Vi? You know I won't tell!"

"Kari, I'm serious!" _Please let me be serious because if not I am just going to _die"I don't like anybody!"

"You said 'him' last time!" pointed Kari excitedly. "Oh my gosh, you said 'him!' There's a guy somewhere, I know it!!"

_Why is she so perceptive at the _worst _moments? _"Kari, no, I _don't _like _anybody._" Briefly, she allowed herself to think of her 'relationship' with Buddy Pine. Did she like him?

_No, _was her curt answer. _No I do not. At least, not in that way… but perhaps in a friendly way?_

That was already weird. Friendly, with an ex-villain, one that tried to kill her entire family? Strange.

Violet looked Kari straight into her eyes and pushed every ounce of her former thoughts into each and every syllable. "I don't like anyone like that, Kari. I promise."

Kari seemed a bit hesitant to let such a juicy vein of conversation go, but eventually she gave up. "Oh, fine," she pouted as she began to trudge up to the school. "Crush my happy moment."

"Sorry," apologized Violet. "I'll make sure to fall in love as fast as I can for your enjoyment."

"Thank you."

Violet laughed.

* * *

The first part of her day passed by at a snail's pace. Sometimes she swore that the minute hand was going backwards and she was losing time instead of gaining even a single second of it. Of course she kept glancing at the clock more then what was healthy for a person but she couldn't help it. She wanted fifth period to come. 

_Chemistry._

Eventually (it was nothing short of a miracle) the lunch bell rang, but when she found herself standing outside of the chem. room, staring at the plastic plate labeled 'Buddy Pine' just above the room number, she quickly gained cold feet.

_Cold feet with cement blocks and chains._

Most of it was fear. Mr. Pine (_that sounds so strange_) had been so _angry _with her the other day. Maybe he was still angry? She wouldn't put it past him. She could even imagine him throwing a beaker of hydrochloric acid into her face just because she blinked the wrong way. There was, however, another reason for her hesitation and she was almost positive the butterflies in her stomach were related to it.

_I can't do this. I can't _do_ this. He's right in there and he's going to see me and then I'm going to pass out because of his stupid, penetrating eyes! _

Violet entered anyway.

Her first thoughts were, _Oh, this isn't too bad, _but that lasted only about three seconds. His eyes caught hers and then her previous thoughts of fainting were appearing to be more truth than fiction.

He smirked at her. "Good morning, Miss Parr."

_No, awful morning. Scary morning. Blue morning… blue… oh your eyes are so blue- _"Good morning, Mr. Pine."

To her delight, she wasn't dead yet and even better he turned away from her to look down at a couple papers on his desk. Taking the opportunity with both hands, she rushed to her desk, a relieved sigh falling from her lips.

_Get away from him, far away. Don't look. Just fade into the background. Fade and become like all the beakers and burners behind you… Huh?_

She stopped. Someone was occupying her seat.

_Her _seat.

"Um, this is my seat," she pointed, trying not to sound too desperate for her chair.

Unconsciously, she realized Buddy (_I don't care. In the safety of my head he is Buddy. Mr. Pine is just weird) _had stopped looking around at his papers and was watching the spectacle with interest.

The kid sitting in her seat awkwardly scratched his head. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry but, uh…" He pointed slowly towards the board.

_NO… _No way. He didn't. He couldn't have possibly done it. It was unthinkable!

She turned slowly to face the board in the front of the room.

There, right in the middle, was a neatly drawn and carefully planned seating chart.

Her seat was directly in front of his desk.

Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach just as the bell rang. The students all began to find their seats, save Violet who was trying not to expire at that very moment.

"Find your seat, Miss Parr," said Buddy with a hint of sadistic humor in his voice. "I wouldn't want to take away points."

Violet started and her head shot up. Everyone was all sitting down and staring at her, waiting for her to sit down. Slowly, she walked over to her desk, slid off her backpack, and sat rigidly in her chair, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She had never been more uncomfortable in her entire life.

"Good," said Buddy with a hidden smirk before he cleared his throat and began the class.

"Hello, again," began Buddy. It may have been Violet's imagination, but he seemed a bit… stiff. "I apologize for my abrupt departure the other day. There were…" His gaze slipped briefly towards Violet who immediately sunk lower into her chair. "…matters, I had to attend to. But now everything has been settled so now I can properly begin the class." He took a marker and wrote in big letters, 'REACTIONS.' He pointed to it with the tip of the marker. "Can anyone tell me what kinds of chemical reactions there are?" No one's hand raised and a brief flicker of irritation crossed his face. "Anyone?"

Violet could, but she'd rather chop off her own hand before raising it. She let other students raise their hands and answer the question. Wrong answer after wrong answer and eventually everyone had spoken except her.

Buddy's face always seemed to flinch slightly in the direction of a smirk when he looked at her. "Miss Parr, can you list some reactions?"

_Dammit. _"Yes."

"Then list them."

She hated him. She hated him so very, very much. "Single replacement…."

"…And?"

"…Double replacement." She was looking down at her desk, but she could still feel those eyes of his. Those damn eyes. "Combustion… synthesis… decomposition." She stopped, but didn't look up at him. "That's it," she finished quietly.

He stared at her for a moment- a very long moment in her mind- before he gave a satisfactory nod.

"…Good," he said after another pause, his whole person tense. Violet smirked.

_So he isn't all flowers and rainbows either. Good, it's fair that way._

He turned away from her quickly and wrote out all of the reactions on the board. "Today, we are going to study each of these individual reactions in groups. First, you will study it through books, and then you will perform an experiment and see how these certain reactions play out in real life."

Violet found this all to be so absurd. Buddy Pine, no matter how 'dead' Syndrome was, would _never _look natural teaching. It was almost silly.

"Get into groups of two and then I will assign you which reaction to study and which lab to perform."

His eyes slid over to Violet for the briefest of moments. There, within the space of a millisecond, something flashed in his eyes and all the blood rushed to her head.

_What in the world was that? _Not the look, her reaction. The most simple of glances had nearly caused her to faint. Either he was pulling some sort of mental mind confusion on her or she was very sick in the head and belonged in a asylum.

_Please let it be him._

"Get started," said Buddy, mouth twitching slightly in the corners as Violet struggled to regain her composure, but the knowledge that he was still watching her made recovery extremely slow.

_Damn you Buddy, and while I'm at it, damn you body for acting so stupid!_

Of course Violet paired up with Kari which gave her some relief. Having the familiar presence next to her was comforting. Still, she could not help but watch Buddy move around the room as he went from group to group. Her reasons went on and on from the strange to the even stranger. But, there was still a part of her that was shaking her head when he handed out packets and wrote down names and spoke to her fellow classmates.

Buddy, a teacher. So strange. So silly.

_You don't want to do this, Buddy, you don't want to be here. I can tell. Why are you here then? Surely this isn't about me again, is it?_

She realized quite suddenly that the chances of that were high, and then the butterflies came back, but they had unexplainably turned into eagles and were flapping around wildly. They grew much worse and were practically biting her stomach when he went over to her and Kari. He still had that assured look on his face and those eyes were still so very blue.

_Stupid pretty blue eyes. I hate you._

"You two," he said, his eyes lingering on her for a moment, "will be studying single replacement." He looked down briefly at a note in his hands. "It appears that you're _fairly_ competent in this class-"

-_You can't give a compliment without being nasty, can you?-_

"-so you will be using a more powerful- _very_ powerful, actually, hydrofluoric acid."

Hydrofluoric acid. That was a very powerful chemical and they had only used it in theoretical labs. She should have been flattered. Rather, she just felt even more uncomfortable and ill. He was physically and mentally sickening her, but it was… thrilling.

_Oh God, I want more… Look at me Buddy. Stare into my eyes just like you did in the kitchen-! _

Bad thoughts began to take over. She shook herself violently, bile rising up into her throat as more and more images piled up, each one as disturbing as the last.

_Somebody help me. I'm losing my mind…!_

Buddy was still switching his glance left and right between her and Kari, but his eyes always settled just a _little _longer on her.

"I think it should be obvious," he said, taking a slow step towards Violet's direction, her head bowed over her desk, her hands wringing the edge of her shirt, "but just in case you don't pull yourself from your dream world-!"

He slammed his hand on her desk, startling her so badly she let out a small cry of fright. She shook and looked directly at him and _Oh my god I can't look away._

He leaned a fraction closer. Just a tiny bit closer. No one would know the space difference except them. "Try not to burn yourself," he said with a sarcastic smile. "It may be diluted down to a meager fifty percent, but your flesh would still begin to corrode on contact." He said it all with a whisper before he pulled away and handed them identical packets. "Finish those, check with me, and then start on your lab," he said curtly before going back to his desk. This meaning he took five steps and was 'away.' Violet could still count the freckles on his nose.

"Come on," Kari said in a hurry, plopping down into a chair and whipping out a pencil. "Let's get this done. I want to play with some acid!"

Her friend's exuberance drew a little normality into her thoughts as she began to read and write down different replies to different answers, her mind only occasionally drifting.

Twenty minutes later and a few arguments about which element replaced what, they checked in with Buddy and went and put on their safety equipment (goggles and a black apron) before heading over into the fume hood in the back of the room, a safe distance away from the main classroom.

"Okay," said Violet, looking down at her lab directions. "We're reacting hydrofluoric acid with sodium. Okay, so measure out the sodium, Kari and I'll get the acid ready."

Kari's tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as a symbol of her concentration as she measured, bit by tiny bit, of the sodium into a well plate as Violet prepared the acid. The Teflon bottle was slightly stained and a little sticky with an unknown residue. She allowed herself a quick, "Icky," before she attempted to open the bottle. Unfortunately for her, the stopper refused to budge.

"Man, when was the last time someone open this thing?" she grumbled to herself as she carefully began to ease the stopper from its stuck position.

"I don't know," said Kari, "but hurry! I want to see what happens!"

"Alright, Kari, just hold your horses." Violet held onto the bottle tighter, her teeth biting her lip as she twisted the large, black stopper left and right before she began to pull, slightly, carefully, _Damn it this thing is stuck tight-!_

The stopper suddenly came loose and flew from her hand, acid splashing all down her left arm. First, a prolonged, shocked pause, maybe a few seconds long-

"Kari, get Buddy-!"

-and then pain began to spread all across her arm and into her bones and into her brain. She looked down and saw her arm quickly turning bright, bright red and it her skin was melting, but she didn't have time to be grossed out. All she had time for was a helpless gasp of horror before pain. Pain, pain, pain, pain, _pain._

She didn't know what wasn't happening. She thought she heard Kari screaming and then there were firm hands around her leading her to the sinks. Cold water gushed from the faucet and splashed down her burning arm. She didn't see much, her eyes were filled with tears of pain, and she didn't hear much over the roar of agony that was resounding in her head.

_Make the pain stop. Chop off my arm if you have to. It's only my left one! Just please make the pain go away!_

The room began to tilt a little along with her stomach as more and more pain built up, making her body feel like she was being drug through water at amazing speeds.

_I'm losing it._

"Somebody get the nurse," said a deep voice- _Like an earthquake in their throat_. It came from the person rinsing the acid off of her arm.

_Hmm, it's vibrating in their chest so wonderfully. Hm? Is that aftershave I smell? It's nice…_

That happy thought fled when another bout of pain spread through her body and she began to shake. Everything was slowly registering and as more time passed she began to become more and more aware of what had happened.

"Oh God," she groaned. "It hurts, it hurts…" Colors were melding before they faded black and white for a moment. Voices were growing muffled and slurred and it almost reminded her of the time she went the Scrambler at the fair, colors, smells and sounds whizzing by.

_I was so dizzy… like now, actually. Are we at the fair?_

"Violet? Violet!" Someone was gripping her. "Violet, focus, you're going into shock. Focus on me, Violet!"

Two hands gripped either side of her face and she suddenly found herself looking into a pair of very similar, very lovely blue eyes.

"Blue eyes," she mumbled, her vision fading in and out a little bit.

A pause, then, "Yes, blue eyes. Focus on my eyes, Violet."

_Silly, you don't need to ask me to do that. I would love to look into your eyes. _But the black around her vision kept creeping closer and closer towards the middle with each pulse of pain. Soon it would swallow up everything completely.

"I can't."

"No, Violet, focus! Focus Violet…!" _Oh, the voice is getting quieter. That's too bad. Goodbye, voice…_

Everything went dark.


	7. Let Her Dangle

A/N: This story is moving along a little more quickly than I expected. However, there is a lot more to the story. We're only looking at the preliminaries, folks!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Let Her Dangle**

_"Every day I sit and wonder how my life it used to be... So tell me people, am I going insane?"_

_"Am I Going Insane" by Black Sabbath_

* * *

_Why do I even bother helping? All I'm ever going to get in return is crap._

Carefully, very carefully, as if he was disassembling another apocalyptic bomb, he gingerly pressed a bag of frozen peas on his jaw. A small package of carrots followed, resting over his left eye. Immediately he relaxed, sinking down into his bed and closing his eyes.

_Better… but no amount of frozen produce is going to heal my pride… At least, _he added with a forethought, _Violet will be okay._

Stupid, clumsy girl had spilt almost an entire bottle of hydrofluoric acid all down her arm, practically melting her flesh. Luckily he had stepped in quickly and, with a few choice inventions of his and an experimental manipulation of calcium gluconate, all the girl suffered was the slightest of scars. Not only that, he had _carried _the girl (_Carried! I don't carry anyone!) _to the nurse's office when she had passed out. He had stayed there and helped to try and wake her up. In fact, he _did _bring her around for a little while. She had been a little out of it and had spouted more nonsense about his eyes, but she had been awake!

What did he have to pay for it?

An accusation that he had tried to molest her and then two giant bruises when her godforsaken father charged him like a snarling bull.

_Molest. For Christ's sake... _

Now, trying to seduce his daughter, THAT was a different story.

_I suppose I'm not _entirely _innocent._

He grinned and he was repaid with simultaneous twinges of pain. He pressed the frozen bags of vegetables closer to his skin, frowning instead. "This is almost not worth all of the effort."

Now that his head no longer felt like it was going to explode, it left him room to think. He relaxed further into his pillows, a growing sense of satisfaction nestling in his chest.

The seduction was going according to plan. He knew, without a doubt, that he had planted _something _of himself in her mind. She also decidedly liked his eyes which would most assuredly help him in the future. He felt he had regained a few of his cards back, which was a good feeling. The only question then was should he continue on with step three?"

"Step three," he said aloud, "screen and accept her."

He smirked. This step would be fun. Not only because it was easy, but because he was going to love watching her squirm. He liked power and he would use it to see if she was even remotely worthy of aiding his noble quest for revenge, all the while drawing her even closer, silently slipping those ropes around her, binding him to her. Then, when everything was said and done, he'd cut her free and watch her fall, her purpose done.

_Yes… after all this is said and done, I will have all of my cards back and then I will be free of her. If anything, that is reward enough. _The thought was a sweet one and it made him smile again which, in turn, made him grunt in pain.

_I've got to stop doing that._

Just as he finally began to fully relax, the throbbing of his wounds almost disappearing, his blasted phone went off, the ringing bouncing off the walls of his spacious room. He growled.

"Answer."

"Hello, sir? Yes, I'm-"

"Why are you bothering me?" snapped Buddy, aggravated. "I'm not in the mood, so if you don't have anything smart to say, I suggest you hang up and leave me alone for the rest of the day!"

"B-but sir!" exclaimed the secretary on the other end, "You asked me to call you when Miss Violet Parr woke up from the hospital!"

The bags of once frozen vegetables fell from his face. He sat up quickly. "She's awake?"

"Er… yes, sir."

He quickly got up and left the house, getting into his car and driving off towards the hospital.

* * *

He hated stupid people. He was once again reminded of this fact when he had attempted to communicate to the blathering idiot at the reception counter that he was Buddy Pine and if you don't let me into room 406 I'll simply force my way there! Eventually, after some well placed persuasion techniques ("I used to kill people for a living, you know"), he was given a pass and pointed in the direction of Violet's room. 

_Idiotic people. Who in the hell gives them jobs like these when they're so clearly _not _fit for the task? _It was yet another one of those Mysteries of the Universe and he set it aside to be pondered about another time. Instead, he watched the numbers of the doors he passed by, counting down.

_409, a bench, a potted plant, 408, a coffee machine, Robert Parr, 407-_

_Robert._

He stopped and immediately began to place up barriers around his emotions. Rage was already leaping and jumping around in his stomach like a rabid dog. It was to his great fortune that he had already received some practice concerning the art of how to interact with his most hated enemy.

It seemed Robert needed a little more practice because the coffee cup that was once in his hand was now reduced to a dripping, crushed mess of stained Styrofoam.

"What," began Robert, his voice dangerously low, "are _you _doing _here?_"

_Let the games begin. _

"Hmm, I thought that it would be obvious." He looked around at the building. "A student of mine received severe chemical burns. I tended to her, but she had to be rushed to the hospital to make sure her blood was free of poisons. My attempt to help her was rewarded with the physical harm to my being-"

"I'll do more than just harm you!" practically roared Robert, taking a step closer.

"Oh, so you _do _know what I'm talking about. That's fantastic news." A deviant's grin spread across his face and he almost thought that Robert was going to tackle him when suddenly Mr. Incredible pulled back, mollifying.

_Hm? _He turned and saw to his slight displeasure Helen Parr, A.K.A Elastigirl.

_You're always meddling in your husband's affairs, aren't you?_

"Hello," said Buddy, nodding his head slightly. Helen wasn't sure how to respond to his greeting, so she gave him a quick nod.

"Hello," she replied, slightly unsure. When she had spoken, a sound of indignity came from Robert, but she shushed him with a look. She instead turned back to Buddy who was carefully analyzing the situation before him. A strange, almost uncomfortable look crossed her face

_Oh ho ho ho HO, she's feeling guilty now, is she? A little confused about your views on me, Mrs. Parr, after I saved your daughter? If I were in your shoes, I would be too. _

She was playing right into his hands. _Perfect._

"Bu-Mr. Pine," she faltered, appearing a cross between embarrassment and anger taking over her face. Her inner turmoil was clearly showing itself on her features.

"Yes?" To say he was enjoying it was a major understatement.

"I believe I- WE…" She quickly went over to Robert who was staring at her as if she had suddenly begun to monologue about world domination. "We owe you _not_ an apology- _never _an apology," she added with a bite, "but… But we do owe you our thanks."

"We owe him nothing!" hissed Robert, but she shushed him again. He glared at Buddy, but did not speak again.

Syndrome looked at the couple, inwardly smirking. It had to be so awkward for them, giving him thanks. They would probably beat themselves up over it later and argue about it when the kids were asleep. Then, he'd bet they'd fall asleep in different beds.

Ah, the beginnings of his revenge.

"You're welcome," said Buddy smoothly, putting in as much sickly sweet sincerity into his voice as much as he could. "It was my pleasure. Violet is, after all, my student."

Robert mumbled something under his breath so low that even Buddy didn't catch it, but it must have been degrading towards him because Helen's face suddenly went a vibrant shade of red and she smacked Robert's arm.

"Robert Parr!"

"What?" he exclaimed, turning towards her and pointing at him. "It's true! I saw it with my own eyes. He was leaning over her and holding her hand and he had this look in his eyes- this _look, _Helen-!"

Buddy bristled with anger, only able to keep himself in check when he saw Helen get just as angry at him, but she was also embarrassed when she saw just how irked Buddy was.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "he didn't mean that."

_Ah, I thought you said you would never apologize to me, Mrs. Parr._

"It's fine," said Buddy, his voice surprisingly controlled. "Although I'm going to ask that you don't insinuate things about me like that again."

"He won't, I swear." She turned on him, scowling. "Right, Bob?"

"He's a little-"

"_Right, _Bob?"

Robert glared furiously at Buddy, Buddy returning his own piercing glance, before the bigger man gave in, albeit with enough huffing and grumbling to cause a rhino to fear him.

Buddy readjusted his shields and cleared his throat, bringing Helen's attention to him. "Now, seeing that things have been smoothed out, do you think I can drop in for a quick visit with Miss Parr?"

At the mention of her daughter, Helen became defensive again and he almost thought she wouldn't let him in, but she finally relented and gave him a curt nod. "Just be quiet," she warned him, "she just got up and is still feeling a bit groggy." Her eyes grew dangerous. "I'm serious. You do anything to disrupt her…"

Robert recovered at the tone of his wife's voice and his previous defensive (or offensive) behavior returned. His back straightened slightly and he fixed Buddy a warning glare that was almost as threatening as Helen's.

_Well, it's a step in the right direction. Can't have everything at once, I suppose._

"Of course." He nodded his head in their direction before he slipped into room 406. He turned only briefly to catch the beginnings of the super couple's conversation.

"…He's a snake in the grass, I know it!"

"Even so, he saved her life."

"For his own gain, I bet!"

He snickered softly. Robert had his dumb moments and his smart ones. Too bad his wife couldn't tell which was which.

He quietly closed the door and turned around, eyes adjusting to the orange light of the setting sun bouncing off the immaculate white walls of the hospital room. There, amongst the blankets of the hospital bed, rested Violet.

Violet was, just as Helen had told him, awake, but she was lying down and staring exhaustingly at the ceiling above her, her left arm bandaged and lying across her stomach. She needed to sleep some more. He told her so.

"You need to sleep some more."

She visibly jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning her head, her eyes met his and then she visibly stiffened. He waited, wondering what her reaction would be next.

_Show me, Violet. Show me just how well I'm seducing you._

Then, to his utter pleasure, she relaxed and gave him a smile.

"Hi, Mr. Pine."

_Perfect. _

"Hello, Miss Parr. How are you feeling?"

"I guess I'm okay. My arm hurts a tiny but." She looked down at her arm. It had grown twice its size due to all of the white gauze and bandages wrapped around it. "They say it will leave a fairly nasty scar," she said a little sadly.

"On most people, yes," said Buddy, coming over and taking a seat next to her bed. "But thanks to me and the wonders of a super's body, scar tissue will be very minimal. Perhaps a little redness, nothing more."

"Really?" She sounded happy. He guessed she had been mulling over it for a while. Maybe that was why she lost sleep. "That's great news!"

"Yes, but your parents are going to have to get you out of here before they check your arm." He stretched in his chair, stifling a yawn. "But that's their problem, not mine."

Violet stared down at her blanket, fidgeting with it and twisting it slightly in her grasp. Her cheeks were tinged slightly with pink. She spoke suddenly, her voice unexpected.

"Thank you for… for helping me."

Buddy's eyebrows arched slightly in surprise, but his face mollified into that of mild satisfaction. "You're welcome," he said smoothly, Violet jumping slightly. "You are, after all, my student…"

He trailed off, this train of thought pulling him along a very bumpy road he preferred not to be on. Violet also seemed to cringe at this statement, her cheeks losing their color and turning almost sickly. She had some idea of what he was doing to her. As her teacher, it was _beyond_ improper to conduct such things.

_Dammit. Shouldn't have said that…_

"However," he added quickly, scrambling to rectify the situation, "the reason for me aiding you is beyond my teaching contract. My reasons are my own personal ones."

The color returned to her cheeks and her eyes flickered up to his briefly. "What kinds of reasons?"

He gave her an amused look. "I do believe I had just told you that those were personal."

She flushed and he smirked. He felt a yawn coming on and he tried to stifle it, but his exhaustion got the best of him. He yawned, unable to stop it, and cringed at the pain on his face that immediately followed. He rubbed his chin softly, frowning.

_Damn supers with their damn insinuations and their damn fists…_

"Oh my gosh!" Violet sat up out of bed, staring at him with wide eyes. "What happened to you?"

"Hm? Oh, these?" He gestured to his wounds. "Well, to put simply, your father happened."

"My dad?"

"Yes. He didn't like it very much when I helped you with your little accident. So, he decided to attempt to knock my head off." He purposefully left out the accusations that her idiot dad had spouted. He wasn't in the mood to talk about those.

"I… I'm sorry," said Violet quietly, her eyes still on his face.

_No, following my hands, _he realized when he saw the light movement of her eyes along with each tender brush he gave his bruises. He decided to play with this information, wondering what else she would do. So, he touched his aching jaw a little harder than necessary and a hiss of pain escaped his mouth.

To his shock, her hand immediately shot out and touched the bruise on his jaw, her soft palm cupping his face. The contact immediately sent tingles down his spine and his whole body stiffened.

He didn't know what to do: knock her hand away or beg for more.

Another card slipped from his grasp. _Damn your stealthy hand, Violet. _

"Be careful." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Please don't hurt yourself."

Her words switched on the machines in his head, marking the line between physical reality and the silly place of daydreams in his head. His brain now working, he decided her touch was unwanted and he shrugged out of it, sitting back into his chair and frowning slightly at the wall.

_Damn you all together._

"Whatever," he said gruffly before he stood up. "I'm leaving now."

Violet's arm was still suspended in the air, but then she pulled back to the bed, embarrassment and perhaps a little sadness lining all of her features. "R-right." She looked down at her blankets, picking at a stray string. "I'm sorry," she added a second later. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's fine," said Buddy quickly, his desire to end the conversation as quickly as possible driving all of his thoughts. He turned away and moved to the door, but a moment later and he stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

He couldn't leave like this.

_Step three, Buddy. You must do step three._

For once, he didn't care about his plan. His cheek was still tingling from the contact. But, perhaps that thread of conversation was the perfect way to start the next part of his plan.

_Dammit._

His hand fell away from the doorknob, and he turned back towards Violet. She was still staring down at her blanket. He moved quickly towards her, watching that hand play with that little string, that hand that had invaded his personal space and jumped his walls and made his life so _difficult!_

"People just don't reach out and randomly touch people's faces," he said angrily, startling Violet. He went right up to the bed, the front of his legs brushing against the side of her mattress. She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with fear.

"Not only is it rude, it's also complete ignorance of someone else's privacy. Not only _that, _considering our… _relationship," _he sounded the word out as if it displeased him, "such contact is improper and would not result in only the worst possible assumptions about you and I, but perhaps the loss of my job, the smothering of our reputations, and a whole plethora of bruises to go with the ones I already have." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down the bridge of his nose. "What gives you the right?"

_Yes. She's not perfect. Let her know you know. She doesn't have the power, you do. _You_ have the power. _

Inwardly, he wasn't feeling so proud. He was cheating a little. She was in a vulnerable state and was pumped full of pain medication. If there was any other situation he could put her in that was just as precarious as the one she was in now, it was beyond his genius mind.

Her eyes were full of fear, but there, right on the edges, was hurt and confusion and the slight haze of the side effects of the medicine. "I… I don't know," she whispered, her hands fidgeting together. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Is that it?" He leaned in closer and Violet's breath hitched. Then, he took it a step further and grabbed onto her chin, forcing her to look straight into his eyes.

'_Blue eyes…'_

His eyes narrowed and he put as much emotion as he could- _whatever_ was there- into his gaze. The result was Violet's breath stopping completely.

"I'm _sorry _to say, but sorry doesn't work all the time," his murmured, his breath brushing against her face, slightly stirring her hair.

Violet was shaking, her giant, unblinking, violet orbs pinned on his. "I'm s-sorry," pattered out her feeble reply.

He let go of her chin, pulling back a fraction. "I just said that doesn't work and yet you continue to think it does."

"I… I don't know what else to say…" She clutched onto her blanket, on the verge of tears, and Syndrome reveled in her distress. He had her dangling over a cliff, her large violet eyes begging for him to pull her back up. It brought him unmatched pleasure and he smirked as he gave the rope a sharp tug.

"Do you feel bad?"

Her eyes widened a little and she nodded. "Yeah…"

He dropped her, just a little bit. "I don't believe you."

Her eyes grew even bigger and a look of hurt crossed her face. She was scrambling up the proverbial rope, trying to reach him as he loomed above her, relishing the power. He had burrowed deep into her mind and was already altering her perception and her priorities.

She was becoming his.

"I do feel bad!" she exclaimed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She struggled to sit up, even though her arm must have hurt a lot. He watched it all with silent satisfaction. "I didn't mean any harm, I swear. Please, I'm sorry."

_Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. _Never before had he seen such a wonderful sight. Violet Parr, daughter of his most hated enemy, was practically groveling before him, begging for forgiveness when she had hardly done anything. He was twisting her mind in ways that were altering even her personality. She was begging and waiting for him to give her some sign she was worthy. It was all in those giant eyes of hers, those amazing violet eyes.

_Poison._

He grasped the rope, let her hang, and then slowly pulled her up, grabbing onto her mind and pulling her close.

_Mine._

"Alright," he said, his voice low. "I'll forgive you. Besides," he added with a shrug, "you _did _say you meant no harm."

Violet's face spread into one of sheer relief and happiness and immense pleasure spread in his chest.

_Screen and accept. Step three complete._

"Thank you," she whispered, a tired smile on her lips.

He did not reply, but he did give her a smile, one that apparently made her embarrassed because her whole face lit up a bright red. He nodded to her. "Sleep," he said, and then he reached out and eased her back down onto the bed. She looked at him the entire time from when her head hit the pillow and when the blankets went up to her chin. Seeing her properly tucked in, he turned to leave.

"Goodbye… Buddy."

A hidden smile, secret and devious. His voice was opposite and filled with warmth.

"Goodbye, Violet."

He finally left after that. Helen and Robert both looked at him upon his exit, but he made his leave before they could say anything. He heard behind him, the couple scramble back into the room, obviously seeing if he had done anything bad to Violet. It irritated him only slightly, but that feeling passed as quickly as a summer storm.

_They're wise to do so, anyway._

Coming upon another waiting area, he saw a young couple, the mother holding a child in her arms. He suddenly remembered that Geoffry was most likely in the hospital at that very moment.

While most employers would have taken the time to go and see any newcomers from the so-called 'work family,' he wanted nothing more than to flee and disappear into his room, away from everything else.

_Sorry, Geoffry, but even though your steak is my absolute favorite, it's not worth the visit._

Buddy left quickly, not realizing that Geoffry had seen him from afar, a knowing smile on his face. "So typical of you, sir." He gave a small chuckle, shook his head, and went back into the hospital room where his newborn babies lay sleeping.


	8. Offence and Defence

A/N: For those who have read and reviewed so far, I would like to extend to you my eternal thanks. The briefest of words fills with me with so much creativity and happiness and while I do write this story for my own fangirl obsessions (slightly crazed look in her eye), I also write for you and perhaps your own love of Synlet. So, thank you (bows).

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Offence and Defence**

_"It's the way of the world, love is war. Where boy meets girl, love is war"_

_"Love is War" by Jon Bon Jovi_

* * *

Her arm hurt. A lot. 

"Just let me die," she groaned into her pillow. "Please. Or at least take away this stupid arm of mine and let me be free of this pain!"

It was ironic that it had been her left arm melted away by the acid. Now, no matter how many times people tried to get a glimpse at the white skin underneath, they would never be able to find her scars of memory and depression.

_Washed away from physical memory. I suppose I should be thankful._

At that moment, a man with a giant paper check could walk into her room and she'd ignore him and instead resign to wallow in her own self pity.

_I'm dying. Somebody have mercy on my poor soul._

Her mercy came in the form of a bowl of ice cream.

Her mother knocked on her door and entered, carrying a tray displaying a rather delectable chocolate sundae. Her mom smiled at her and gently set the tray down on Violet's lap, Violet doing her best not to drool all over it.

_Drool is unappetizing, Violet. You don't want it all over your ice cream, do you? _

"Here you go," said her mom with a smile. "This should cheer you up."

"I'm not sad," corrected Violet, her hand twitching towards the shining spoon next to the bowl, "I just feel like my arm is going to split like a banana peel. That's all." Finally, she snatched up her spoon, stuck it into her ice cream, and shoved a huge bite of it into her mouth. Still eating, the spoon hanging from her mouth, she managed, "There's a difference between sadness and banana peel agony, I swear."

Her mother shook her head. "Manners, Violet."

"What? No one's around."

"Still, I didn't raise you to eat like a pig." Helen's eyes shifted left to right and then her finger suddenly stretched out and scooped up a bit of ice cream. She popped it into her mouth, much to Violet's dismay.

"Hey! This is my pity ice cream! Get your own!"

"Fine, fine," Helen pouted, wiping her finger on the edge of her pants. "I suppose a mother's heartfelt deeds must never go rewarded."

"_Thank you."_

"You're welcome, Vi. Oh!" Her mother reached into her pocket and produced probably the single wonderful, amazing, beautiful thing on the entire planet.

_Pain medication._

"You can take a couple of these after you eat your ice cream," said her mother, taking the lid off and tipping two white pills into her hand. She gave them to Violet who restrained from cuddling them against her cheek and kissing them.

_I love you, beautiful, white pills. You are my everything._

"Only take them _after _you eat, though," warned her mother. "I know you want them now, but you'll get sick if you take them before. Got it?"

"Yes," replied Violet tersely, carefully placing the medication on her night stand. She looked back at her sundae and a little bit of her annoyance disappeared. Then her spoon began to move at its own accord, putting more and more ice cream into her mouth.

Her mother chuckled to herself and shut Violet's door behind her as her daughter continued to eat. A few minutes later and a quick recovery from a minor case of brain freeze, Violet quickly took the pills and popped them into her mouth, swallowing.

_Work your magic on my tortured body, oh amazing creations from the miracle known as science. _

As she waited for the medication to kick in, she leaned back into her pillows and began to ponder. A couple days ago, her mind could have drifted across thousands and thousands of different topics. However, as of late, only one stood out in her mind. A very obvious topic, one that had orange hair, a cocky grin, and stupid, stupid, amazing, beautiful blue eyes.

_What the heck are you doing to me, Buddy?_

He was controlling her mind, she was sure of it. There was no other explanation to the irrational behavior she had displayed in the hospital room the day before. She had begged him- _begged him- _for forgiveness when, the more she thought about it, she had truly done nothing wrong. She had belittled herself before him for the simplest word of mercy.

_I'm insane. I'm going crazy. He's everywhere in my thoughts. I try to think of something else and then, somehow, my mind trails off and then his beautiful blue eyes are right there in the middle of my mind, piercing my very soul._

Her whole body was shaking. Her breath was coming out in small little gasps as those eyes of his filled her head, swallowing up all of her coherent thought, suffocating her mind. Within the middle of the chaos, there was a spot of truth. It was dark and like stone and it made her want to cry.

_I think I'm… _

Indescribable, unimaginable, tremendous fear ripped through her with such ferocity that even the vision of him dissipated under the might of her horror. She would _never _admit to such a thing. To do so was surrender of her soul to him, a man whose hands were stained with the blood of innocents. To have those hands around her very spirit would kill her.

_No. I'd kill myself before that ever happened._

And she knew, with a cold sense of realization, she _would._

Her eyes drifted down to her bandaged wrist. She could almost feel the razor blade drag across her flesh, the feel of blood trickling down her skin. It had felt so bad and so good all at the same time. It had released her agony while placing an equally dark stain on her soul.

_After all of that, after all I did to stop… will I start it all over again?_

She stared at her arm for a moment more, secretly caressing the memory of her cuts, when she realized that the pain had gone away. After that, she also realized that she felt like she was floating. Floating higher, higher, touching soft clouds, their plush whiteness cushioning her head. Then, she fell asleep, arms hugging her pillow tightly.

* * *

Violet had been confined to the house by her mother's order. She would be able to return to school next week. So, Kari brought Violet her a day's worth of homework and then she would work on it in her room where she could safely think without distractions. She sat there now wearing her favorite flannel plaid pajamas, a pencil hanging from her mouth as she frowned down at the math problem sitting in her lap. Her whole face was twisted with concentration. 

"If I square this end… No, that's not right." She huffed and pushed the book to the edge of the bed. Her head and arm both hurt too much for her to care. She had no more miracle pills so she had to deal with the pain.

"Damn doctors. They don't understand the level of my suffering!" Really, Violet was just bored so she had nothing else to do except complain. Complain and eat and go to the bathroom. Then, if she felt like it, complain some more. It was all rather dull and it was clear she was in need of a break.

"I need a walk," declared Violet. Her eyes slid over to her door. The sounds of cleaning were heard outside followed by the occasional giggle of Jak Jak. "Mom won't let me out, though…"

She grinned. She wasn't Invisigirl for nothing.

She went into her closet, pushed back all of the clothes, revealing a bare wall. Her hand reached out, touched it, and a sudden light came from it, scanning her hand and retreating just as quickly as it had come. There was the sound of a mechanism unlocking and then the back of the closet slid away, revealing a completely separate part of her closet, one that hid all of her super-related items. It had been her sixteenth birthday present, a joint collaboration between Edna and her parents.

"My very first hero lair."

She squeezed her way through the clothes hanging from her regular closet and stumbled into the other room. Her supersuit hung suspended over an anti-gravity pad in the middle of the room, the suit rotating slightly. She ignored that and instead went to a rack where rather normal looking clothes were. If anyone bothered to see the trademark stitch of Edna Mode on the collars of the clothes, they would immediately realize that they were far from normal.

"I think I'll wear blue today," she announced, taking down a baby blue shirt and a matching pair of bellbottom pants. She quickly got dressed, threw her pajamas into her hamper, and left the hidden room, the door closing behind her with a hiss.

"Now, let's see if this works." Violet looked down at her hand and then went invisible. To her pleasure, the clothes disappeared as well.

"Thank you, Edna," she whispered before she threw open her window, popped the screen free as quietly as she could, and then escaped, fading from visibility the moment her feet touched the ground. It was a good thing too because her mom had suddenly appeared from the house, a bag of trash in her hand. Violet froze on the spot, even though she was completely invisible.

_Still, mom's always had that weird, motherly sixth sense._

She waited until her mother shut the house door firmly behind her and then she ran off. She wasn't exactly sure where she was going, but she was going somewhere, and somewhere was better than her room.

She made her way out of the main area of houses and went towards a pond a couple blocks away. It was a man-made recreation, a paved path making its way all the way around the semi-large body of water. Ducks swam and on occasion a turtle would come to bathe on the warm rocks lining the edge. That day, the park was relatively empty, so she faded back into visibility and then began her slow trek around the pond. Immediately, she began to think.

_Buddy… If it was anyone else, I would think I had a crush on him, but it's not, so it makes no sense. I don't like him at all, truly I don't. I think he's the single most horrid man on the face of this planet… but... each time he talks to me, he does… _something. _I don't know what, but it's like he reaches into my brain and begins manipulating my thoughts. I act like a blushing idiot, he walks away all proud-like, and then when I finally realize who I am, I know I was more than an idiot- I was downright stupid. _

Ducks splashed around in the water in the distance and a couple quacks echoed across the pond. Violet spared a quick glance in their direction, briefly enjoying the sight of the animals, before she turned her gaze back down to the pavement.

_He's playing games with me, _she thought angrily. _I don't know what kind of games, but apparently my piece is on the board and he's already rolled the dice. Maybe if I knew what he was doing I'd be able to defend myself but I'm wandering around in the dark. _

She recalled a very strange and almost silly idea a couple days ago. The masked crusader, the wooing of the beautiful maiden. She snorted at the absurdity of it. Still, a prodding part of her brain kept poking the idea with a giant stick and eventually she acknowledged it.

_Alright, _relented her thoughts, _let's just imagine that he's trying to 'woo' me. How would I retaliate?_

She stopped in her tracks. She was looking at the game of courtship and love like a battlefield. She briefly imagined herself dressed in cameo as she aimed a gun at a Valentine card.

She shook her head wearily. "I _am _losing my mind." She continued walking, her steps a little lighter.

_Okay, again, how would I retaliate? _She frowned. _I don't know. I've never had to defend myself against anyone's affections before. Would I just... avoid him? No, even if that worked, I wouldn't be able to do that. I have detention with him for a week, after all. _Her brow creased with concentration, the wheels in her head spinning. Idea after idea came and was crushed as she tried to figure out how to approach the situation. Finally, a diamond in the rough.

_Maybe… I beat him at his own game._

"I can't do that," whispered Violet with embarrassment. "I've never been able to do anything remotely related to… to _that! _Just _thinking_ of me flirting with him makes me feel sick!" She was walking faster now, her hands wringing together before she broke them apart, growing defensive. "Besides, even if it worked, all I would get in the end would be…"

_His adoration for you._

She nearly stumbled and she quickly went to the nearest park bench and sat down, careful not to sit in the bird poo. She fanned herself with her hand, feeling a little woozy.

"What a stupid, stupid idea. You're so stupid, Violet!" But it _was _a good plan if her goal was to beat Buddy, but she didn't want the prize. When had she ever thought of running towards the white tape, but not wanting the trophy? Never.

"_Nobody _would want this prize," she joked, although she wasn't feeling very humorous.

_Okay, I can't do that. I'm going to have to think of something else. Maybe alter the plan a little, twist the idea to where nobody wins. _She snorted. _Easier said than done, though._

She couldn't entice him or anything of that nature, but maybe, if she was careful and did so in the correct amounts, she could banter with him. Throw in a couple teasing remarks, sarcasm here and there, and instead of trying to steal her heart, they'd be battling out who was better than who, and _that _she could deal with.

"So, I'm going to start a _hopefully_ healthy rivalry with Buddy." Not only would it put a halt to all these ridiculous thoughts swarming in her head, it would also put her at a safe distance where she could get to know Buddy Pine better. Then, if things went well, maybe she could find out why he was doing what he was doing.

_It's odd that Syndrome is Buddy. It's bizarre that he's in my school. It's downright _insane_ to think that he is actually hitting on me! _Though to use the word 'hitting' didn't fit very well with him and she immediately changed it to '_courting me._'

_I could tell my parents. _The scared little girl in her had finally made an appearance and was now shaking in the forefront of her mind. _If I told them what he was doing, they'd stop it and I wouldn't have to worry about Buddy Pine ever again. No more fear, no more headaches, no more imaginary destruction of love cards. I'd be free._

But she would always wonder about the 'what ifs.' What if Buddy was for real? What if Buddy just wanted to have friends? What if Buddy was actually a good guy? What if Buddy could make her _happy?_ Too many questions and to ignore those would go against everything Violet stood up for. She couldn't back down from a challenge, no matter how scary it seemed.

"No," she said aloud, her face and voice set in determination. "This is my battle, not theirs."

While it all sounded very brave and heroic, she knew that it was probably the stupidest decision she had ever made in the entire sixteen years of her life. However, stupid though it was, it was her own personal decision, one that was made by a _woman, _not a girl. Good or bad, she would learn from the experience.

"Let's just hope that things work out for the better, though."

She wandered around the park a little more, going over her battle plan. She assumed that Buddy would continue to pursue her and would make a spectacle of it when she was alone with him during detention. She would begin to take the offensive then.

"I wonder what could go wrong."

More detention. Yelling. A slip of her grades. Emotional distress. Physical destruction of her body when Syndrome suddenly arose from the depths of Buddy Pine when she said a particularly nasty comment about his giant head.

_I'm going to have to be _real _careful or else instead of Violet Parr I'll be Violet Is-That-Bloody-Stain-A-Girl?_

Hopefully- _hopefully, _if she assumed correctly- Buddy would like a little competition. She was almost positive he would hate it at first because she'd be disrupting whatever plans he was scheming and she _knew _he didn't like things like that one bit. Over time though, maybe he would enjoy it. Maybe _she_ would enjoy it. Nobody knew.

"It all depends, I suppose," she said with a final sigh before she turned around and began to walk back home. It was late afternoon and the turtles were taking in as much sunlight as they could before they retreated to the water. The fresh air had done her good. Not only were her thoughts staring to file back into order, her arm was now only a dull ache.

"Finally. Things are looking better."

* * *

Well, things _were _looking better. 

Violet snuck back into her room and was greeted by the relentless glare of her mother. After a few minutes of scolding and a little angry banter, the door to her room shut firmly, Violet sticking her tongue out at the space that once occupied her mother.

"Grounded for a week. That's totally unfair!"

"Want me to make it two?" replied her mother from outside in the hall.

Violet glared. "I wasn't talking to you," she grumbled, but she let her anger simmer down. She got out of her clothes and put on some fresh pajamas. She jumped into bed and reached for her journal, fishing for a pen within the depths of her nightstand drawer. Finally finding one, she tucked herself into her covers and turned to the next free page and began to write.

_My stupid mom grounded me. Totally stupid, I know. I only went out for a walk! Oh well, life goes on._

_I know lately I've been writing to you about Buddy Pine. Sorry to say, but I've got more thoughts to pen down to you about him, but these ones are better, I promise. I've decided that I'm not going to let him continue to manipulate my mind anymore. I'm putting a stop to it starting today. I'm going to fight him and his little mind games._

She dotted the end of her sentence with firm resolution. She _would _fight him and she would win. It was, after all, her first major super battle. She was obligated to win.

"Can't let mom and dad down," she whispered with a grin before she put her journal away. She lay down on her bed, staring up at her ceiling. She was wide awake, seeing that she had been sleeping more than a bear in winter the past few days. All her homework (or the stuff she cared about) was done and she was confined to her room. She didn't even have Buddy to mull over. She was bored all over again.

"This sucks," she complained with a huff, punching her blanket. "I'm so bored!"

God must have heard her because suddenly the doorbell rang. She sprang up and went to her window, peering out through the blinds. It was a delivery man, or at least looked like one. She couldn't see much of him, only part of his back. Finally he turned around, tipped his hat towards the direction of the front door, and went back to his truck outside of the house. The front door closed and Violet sat back down onto her bed, wondering what in the world that was all about.

She didn't wonder long because there was soon a knock on her own door. She faltered for a second, still feeling peeved about being grounded, but finally she called for her mom to come in. To her surprise, in her mom's arms were a magnificent bouquet of spring flowers and a _most _impressive basket of chocolates and fruits. A blonde stuffed bear sat on top of it all, it's paws holding onto a envelope, an elegant '_V_' written in the middle.

"Looks like someone sent you a get well basket," said her mom, clearly impressed. "Whoever it is they must like you."

"Yeah," said Violet a little belatedly, hesitantly taking her gifts and setting them aside. Her eyes kept drifting over to the card. "I guess they must."

"I'll leave you to it then." Her mom gave one last look at the presents, smiled, then left.

The moment the door shut, Violet snatched up the envelope and opened it in a hurry. Within was a card. It was no ordinary card. The front picture of a butterfly was moving. _Moving. _It's purple and blue wings shimmered slightly as it fluttered around the ever growing curves of the elegant writing, '_Get Well_.'

_Only one person could make this._

She watched the butterfly for a moment, almost hypnotized by the almost magical appearance it had. Then, she opened the card, carefully and calmly reading the fine handwriting inside.

'_A minor gift for you. I do not know what inspired me to combine chocolate and fruit together in the same basket, but I suppose that is your own battle of temptation, not mine. I assume you _do _like chocolate, considering the heaping amount you carried at our 'reunion.' The bear is a last minute addition. My secretary says that every teenage girl loves a stuffed animal. I was never fond of them, but then again I was never a teenage girl. I thank my lucky stars for that.'_

Something was crossed out here and she couldn't read it no matter how hard she tried. She frowned slightly, but continued on.

'_I will see you Monday, then. Remember not to use your arm often and try to eat some of the fruit. An apple or two won't hurt. If your mother asks who this is from just say- _again, something else was crossed out here, rather thoroughly, in fact- _it's from a friend. If she still wants to pry some more, she needs to learn to keep her stretchy nose to herself.'_

The card was signed, '_A Friend.' _

Violet, despite herself, grinned and reached out and hugged onto her stuffed bear, once again watching the butterfly fly around on her card. Happiness hummed in her veins and her toe tapped to an imagined song in her head. She spotted an apple and bit into it, humming softly.

_He's not that bad of a guy. _She licked her lips. The apple was sweet and crisp. _I'm going to have to thank him._

For a little while, she forgot that he was her enemy and she shouldn't be pondering about the kinds of things he would like to receive as gifts. Soon though she did recall her previous mission and she stopped humming. She looked back at the basket, feeling a little guilty. She took hold of the handle of the basket and set it on the ground. The flowers she decided did not deserve to wilt away under her bed. She asked her mom for a vase with water and then placed them on her nightstand, arranging them carefully.

"So, who was it from?" asked her mom, watching her daughter, a hint of giddy curiosity in her voice.

Violet's hands stopped moving, her lips twitching slightly in the corners. She leaned down and sniffed a flower before turning back to her mom, her eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.

"Well?" prompted her mother. "Who was it from?"

Violet smiled.

"A friend."


	9. Butterflies

A/N: Again, this could be one of my favorite chapters just because I love getting into Buddy's head so much! This chapter is dedicated to the ones I have converted over to Synlet. Viva la Revolution!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Butterflies**

_"You will be the death of me... You will suck the life out of me"_

_"Time is Running Out" by Muse_

* * *

Buddy glared at his secretary. "For the sixth time, I don't know."

She huffed with annoyance and gestured towards him again with the furry things in her hands. "Just pick one, sir. It's not rocket science."

_No, rocket science is much easier than this._

"For the seventh time now, I don't know."

"Just point and pick!"

He growled, his patience wearing thin. "Does it even matter? They're the same exact thing except one's blonde and one's brown."

"And their color makes all the difference!" She gestured again, toe tapping with impatience. "Well, sir?"

He glared at her. "Why did I hire you?" It wasn't a question to be answered and she knew that so he continued to glare, looked at each of the bears, and then pointed to the brown one.

His secretary sighed, eyebrow arching. "_That _one? Sir, that's not a good choice-"

"You _said_ to just pick one. I picked one!"

The secretary sighed again, rolling her eyes. "I'm sending the blonde one. I swear, I don't even know why I asked you."

"Neither do I!" He gestured angrily towards the stuffed animals. "They're just colors. It doesn't matter which one goes or not, each one can serve their purpose."

She gave him a nasty look. "Typical male."

"Typical female," he mimicked, matching her same annoyed tone.

She 'humphed' and exited, finally leaving Buddy alone. He sighed in relief and fell down onto his couch, rubbing his temples.

"All women are not worth the effort," he murmured, casting an annoyed glowered in the direction of the door, mocking the woman's tone. Then, he turned away and relaxed into his couch, glaring at the blank screen of his TV. He didn't even know why he had the thing in his room; he never watched it or he did when the rare moment overcame him.

"I need something to do," he said to himself, getting up off the couch and making his way towards the kitchens.

Geoffry had returned the day before and had resumed working. He was currently working on a rather magnificent looking cake. It almost resembled a wedding cake, but the colors were all off. Bright pinks and vibrant greens. It was a confectionary manifestation of the meaning of spring. 

"Hello, sir," greeted Geoffry with a nod and a smile. "How's the gift coming along?"

"I just spent an hour and a half arguing with Miss Patterson about which color bear to send. That's all I've been able to accomplish."

Geoffry chuckled. "Yeah, she's really picky when it comes to those kinds of things." He picked up a tube of frosting, screwed on a decorative cap, and began to create edible flowers, twisting his hands deftly, petals flowing out like magic. "So, besides the bear, did you figure out anything else to send?"

"I didn't really think I needed anything else," said Buddy, sitting down on a kitchen stool and watching Geoffry do his work. "I mean, the bear is the only thing necessary."

"Yeah," said Geoffry with a shrug, "but a random bear from the middle of nowhere is no good."

"I also made a card," said Buddy, defensive, although he hadn't written anything on the inside yet. 

"Okay, that's good, but still. You need to get some other things. A gift basket needs more than a stuffed animal and a card."

_That card took me all night to make. _He kept his thoughts to himself however. "What do you suggest I do, then?"

Geoffry grinned, but still continued to create flowers. "Do you know any kinds of food she likes?"

'_No_,' was right on his lips, but he realized that he actually did know. "Chocolate," he said, a little startled by the knowledge. "Hershey's chocolate."

Geoffry also seemed surprised by his boss. He even messed up a flower, the petal going askew. He cursed and removed the flower completely, staring over. "That's good. Get a bunch of Hershey products together and add them to the basket."

"Chocolate isn't going to help her heal," he said suddenly, unable to stop himself. "She needs to eat something healthy, like fruit," he added slowly, slightly shaken by his behavior.

"Fruit, eh? That's a weird combination, but it's up to you."

Buddy had a feeling that if he had been talking to Miss Patterson and not Geoffry, his idea would have been cast aside as his secretary set about doing the opposite to what he asked.

"It _is _up to me and I think it's a good idea."

"You know what else you should get her?" He twisted off a petal, placed the edible rose on his finger, and then pointed at Buddy. "Flowers. Every girl likes flowers."

Buddy refrained from gaping. "_Flowers? _I think everyone is missing the point. Get the bear into their house, done and done. It's not like it's her freaking birthday or anything!"

"You're trying to seduce her, aren't you?"

Buddy felt he was walking towards a verbal trap. It was tickling right on the edges of his senses. His eyes narrowed. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Then don't you think getting her a really nice, extravagant gift will help you do that?" Geoffry cleaned off his finger and the tip of the frosting nozzle and then continued in his work. "Believe you me, I am a married man. I know women love gifts, especially flowers. Roses mostly, but it's not like I have the money for that kind of thing-"

"Where in the world are you going with this?"

Geoffry paused. "I'm not sure, but the point is that getting her flowers won't hurt."

Buddy grumbled to himself, but he didn't push the argument any further. 

"So," said Geoffry, starting the conversation over, "does she have any favorites?"

"Favorites?"

"Favorite flowers."

"I don't know. Why do you think I'd know that? Wait, don't answer that," he cut in abruptly when Geoffry's mouth began to open. Buddy rubbed his chin, pondering. "Flowers, huh?"

"Yeah," said Geoffry, his tongue smacking against the roof of his mouth as he ate a messed up frosting flower, "but seeing you don't know what kinds she likes, I suggest you get her a bunch of different kinds of spring flowers. They're nice and they fit almost any occasion."

"…Okay." He had _no_ idea what to do but everybody else apparently did. Bears, chocolates, flowers… He very much felt like a fish out of water, baking under a hot desert sun. Again, he was reminded of all the effort he was putting forth for a sixteen year old girl.

"Absolutely ridiculous," he grumbled, glaring at the cake and silently wishing it would explode in the hopes that it would appease his anger.

Geoffry chuckled and began to make smaller flowers, twisting his wrists quickly and carefully. "You really aren't used to this kind of thing, are you, sir?"

Buddy's glare along with the hope of spontaneous combustion was now focused on his head chef. "I didn't ask you to analyze me, Geoffry."

"It's an observation, nothing more."

"Keep your _observation _to yourself because I don't want to hear it." He wanted a drink badly but it was still too early in the day and to get totally zonked before dinner wouldn't do him much good. He would have to distract himself another way. 

_I still have that card to finish, but that won't take long. Dammit, all of this planning and waiting is going to drive me crazy._

"You look a little anxious, sir," said Geoffry. "You have anything you need to do?" The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as his hands moved slower, his effort carefully being placed into each and every flower.

"No, at least not anything that is worth my time." 

"You sure?"

"Yes," replied Buddy snappishly, but he decided to check again. He pulled out his palm pilot and searched his empty message box for the fourth time. Nothing. 

No, wait, there _was _a message. It was from the school. He opened it with slight hesitation, not sure what he thought of getting an email from Clearwater. In the corner of his eye, he saw Geoffry stop all together in his work, watching him read.

_What's so funny?_

Buddy arched an irritated eyebrow at him and the chef quickly returned to his work only to slow down yet again when Buddy began to read the email.

He had been right to hesitate. According to the email he was staring at with a slack jaw and a flabbergasted expression on his face, he was supposed to get back to Mr. Goldman (_Huh, so that's his name_) about which times would be best for him to come in and-

"_I'm planning the prom!"_

Geoffry snorted and coughed as he attempted to suppress his mirth. More and more flowers came from the frosting tube. "Oh? You didn't know?" he said casually, his voice shaking slightly.

"No, I did not know!" snapped Buddy, holding onto his palm pilot with both hands, squeezing it slowly as if he was trying to choke it. However, Geoffry's words caused his thoughts to stumble. Slowly, he turned his head towards his chef who was paying more attention than necessary to his job. 

"_You," _he sounded out slowly and dangerously. "_You _knew about this?" He looked at the cake, the spring colors. He pointed, stunned. "That's for the prom, isn't it!"

Geoffry didn't reply, but he did shift a little closer to the cake in a protective manner and that was all the answer Buddy needed. He immediately stood up, anger coming off of him in waves.

"Do you think this is _funny?_" seethed Buddy. 

Geoffry shrugged. "Truthfully sir, I kind of do."

"I should fire you," spat Buddy, irate. He shoved his palm pilot deep into his pocket, wishing it would somehow disappear from existence within the dark depths of his pants. "You're lucky your cooking is the only kind I like." He sulked on his stool, anger dwindling to discomfort. "I don't understand why they would pick me- _me _of all people, to organize an event like _this."_

"You're rich, sir," said Geoffry simply, turning the cake round and round, inspecting it for any flaws. "They expect you to put on a most spectacular dance."

"Why in the world would I want to spend money on a function like this?"

"I don't know. Maybe so that you can get even further into their good graces."

Buddy scowled, but Geoffry was right. The only problem was that out of all the things Buddy could do, decorating and planning parties were not included. Not only that, he had other matters to attend to, Violet related matters. He had no time for foolish teenage fantasies that would ultimately dwindle to a memory longed for when they were old and bearing the weight of reality upon their backs instead of giant bags filled with homework. All of it was silly and childish and he didn't want anything to do with it, even if he did have the ability to plan it.

Yet he would have to tolerate it all, every last second of it because Buddy Pine was a _good guy _and _good guys _do whatever they're asked to do because _good guys _do _good things._

Syndrome refrained from gagging and instead resigned to clenching his fist so tightly he lost all circulation in his fingers. A noise rumbled through his head and he realized he was grinding his teeth. Geoffry apparently saw Syndrome's unstable state and he scooted his station a little further away. 

"Uh, sir?"

"_What?" _spat out Syndrome through clenched teeth.

"Are you… okay?"

His palm hurt from his fingernails digging into his skin, his jaw ached, and a part of him wanted to jump off a bridge before he would have to put up streamers all over Clearwater's commons area.

"Of course," said Buddy carefully, mentally placing a giant stopper on the bottle of his emotions, stomping down on it, sealing it tight. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Geoffry's mouth opened, but he realized that it was a question he shouldn't answer. "Okay," he said instead, scooting a little further away, "that's good."

Buddy, once his anger was put in check, realized that he still had a prom to plan and he was still lacking the ability to do it. His creativity centered on destruction and malevolent plans of revenge and evil insanity. If someone gave him a pencil and asked him to draw a puppy, not only would he be unable to draw it without it not having lasers attached to its head, the pencil would be lodged in their eye.

"I can't do this," admitted Buddy with a groan.

Geoffry nodded, already aware of his boss's lack of safe creativity. "You should get some help."

Buddy's eyes shot up and he was already glaring. "If you even suggest Miss Patterson I will take that cake and shove it-"

"N-no," stuttered Geoffry, "not her. You may be the one who is leading the event, but I'm sure the High School has a prom committee that's going to be there to help you."

Buddy snorted. "I absolutely refuse to work with a bunch of giggling teenage girls who can't see anything beyond their reflection in their mirrors. That's why I am teaching chemistry. You don't see people like that in classes with chemicals and boards upon boards of equations."

"Okay," said Geoffry slowly, "then why don't you get Miss Parr to help you?"

The idea was a good one. It gave him another excuse to see her. But…

"No," said Buddy, "that's too much contact with her. Her parents would immediately catch on and then it would be all over." He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm stuck. What am I supposed to do?"

Geoffry shrugged. "I don't know. I gave you all the options you have." He looked over his cake one last time and then gave it the ok. "All I have to do now is send it to Mr. Goldman, see if he likes it, and then make the real thing." Geoffry looked back to his boss who was watching him in his work with slight impatience. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I think you are going to have to work with the prom committee. You aren't going to like it but maybe they'll give you inspiration. You're creative and have an imagination. You just need to learn to focus that in different ways."

Buddy fixed Geoffry a most dangerous glare, Geoffry having the mind to shut up and resume his less than necessary cake inspection. However, as much as Buddy hated to admit it, he knew Geoffry spoke the truth. He would have to put up with the bleached brains of the teenage girls at least until he was able to unleash the less deadly part of his imagination. Besides, he could use this experience to learn more about the teenage psyche, even though he might go a little insane.

_Sacrifices must be made. _He glared at the cake. _I'm not going to like it, though._

"I'm sorry, sir," said Geoffry, even though he didn't sound very apologetic, "but I have to get this cake to Mr. Goldman."

Buddy gave a gesture, a quick wave of his hand to signal his 'ok.' Geoffry said his thanks and, using his years of experience and practice, carefully picked up the cake and balanced it as he made his way out of the kitchen. Buddy, suddenly alone, realized he didn't like the silence.

"This is what happens when I purchase a multi-million dollar house," commented Buddy sarcastically to himself as he walked out of the kitchens and into the main hall. His voice echoed off of the walls, resounding back in a lonely gesture of emptiness. Everything was clean and neat from the work of his maids (even though he had never even seen one of them), but that tidiness seemed to amplify the almost barren feeling his house had. There was no warmth, no sense of comfort. Sure, he felt 'safe.' He had, after all, filled each and every available space inside and outside of the mansion with enough high tech weaponry to vaporize a small army. There just wasn't a soft feeling behind all that safety unlike all the other homes littered around Metroville, houses that didn't have head seeking missiles or robotic dogs. All they had was each other.

Buddy came to a stop, staring blindly down at his feet. He never really had that feeling of security before, at least not for a very long time. When he was young, his parents had been more than willing to shower him with love and affection. It had been him who had cut off all sensitive contact of that nature, closing himself off from anything remotely familiar and warm. 

"It was necessary," argued Buddy, his fists balling up. "There was no time for 'hugs' and 'kisses.' I was a prodigy, a leader in the making." His whole demeanor grew cold, his face turning away from the window that was filled with warm light. "No time, no point. Nobody understood."

He once thought that Mr. Incredible would understand him, but he had been wrong, oh so wrong. The woman he thought could begin to heal him had dropped him just like everyone else for _him. _That… that lumbering idiot that could only break and destroy things.

"Mice and men, give me a gun." Syndrome imagined Mr. Incredible's face a few yards away, made a gun out of his thumb and index finger, and then shot off an imaginary laser beam that ruthlessly vaporized the man's fat head.

_But no, _schemed Syndrome wickedly, _there's more, always more to my revenge. _He walked over to the hearth of his fireplace. Above it hung a perfectly preserved butterfly, a recent addition. Its wings shimmered purple and indigo, a beautiful combination. It would have been a sweet sight except for the pin rammed right down the middle of its abdomen. Syndrome happened to like it.

"Sweet, sweet Violet," cooed Syndrome except his words were twisted and filled with malice, a voice able to draw shivers from a chilly wind. He ran a finger down the side of the frame before flicking the glass, an evil grin stretching his face, his eyes drawing down so far that he looked almost criminally insane. 

_But I _am _insane! _Syndrome picked up the frame and held it afar, inspecting it. _Don't you agree, Violet?_

He remembered the process of preserving the butterfly, feeling perverse pleasure from the memory. It had started out as a cocoon, plain and nothing to look at. With care and the utmost delicacy, a butterfly had emerged, beautiful and full of life. It was the physical manifestation of freedom and purity. He had fed it, gave it a healthy environment to thrive in. 

Then, the first day it had come over and landed on him, he snatched it up and took it within the dark depths of his lab. It had tried to escape, only pathetic attempts of flying over and over into the net, the dust on its wings flying everywhere. It was all useless. He took the butterfly, it still trying so hard to get away even though it was in his clutches. He pinned it to his table, took a needle… 

Innocence, purity, all symbols of life and light brought to a painful end by the point of the needle of death, driven by his godforsaken hand. Freedom stifled and potential tethered under his detached gaze, not even an ounce of sympathy tapping on his heart. The writhing, the feeble fluttering of it's wings as it slowly died, it's legs kicking as it tried to escape, slowly, slowly, then fading, a beautiful corpse, always beautiful.

"Oh, Violet," sighed Syndrome, placing the butterfly back on its place over the fireplace, "so free, so beautiful..." He flicked the glass again.

He'd care for her and befriend her, putting effort into all of his tasks. She would grow under his care and thrive and shine with more beauty than any butterfly. Under his care, she could grow to love him.

Then he'd kill her because a part of him cherished her, just like a part of him had cherished the butterfly.

Syndrome put his hands into his pockets and began to hum a random tune as he headed back up to his room to finish Violet's card.


	10. Confrontation

A/N: Crazy, crazy Syndrome. I hate and love him all at the same time.

Oh, and I like this chapter. :)

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Confrontation**

_"Fearing you, moving you, I won't let you pull me down."_

_"Haunted" by Evanescence_

* * *

Violet woke up that morning already knowing that the day was going to be much more different than any other days she had lived. That day, that shining Monday morning, was either going to be the beginning of other interesting days or the end of them. It all depended if she would safely be able to carry out her plan without calling upon Buddy/Syndrome's fury, which was most certainly going to be a difficult task to complete. It was going to take all of her will and effort.

"And I'm going to have to start this day out well if I'm going to have a chance to even try to do anything." Violet yawned and got out of bed before making her way to the bathroom. She went through her morning routine and eventually made her way to the breakfast table, a plate of pancakes sitting down before her.

She looked at the food with puzzlement.

"Uh, mom?"

"Yes, Vi?" called her mother from the kitchen, the sound of another pancake hitting a searing hot fryer, the noise highlighting the warm, family atmosphere.

"Not that I don't like your pancakes or anything. I mean, I _love _you pancakes." It was true. Violet's stomach was roaring for the food. "It's just you hardly ever cook pancakes on a weekday. What's the occasion?"

Another slap and sizzle and her mom appeared from the kitchen, a small splat of batter on her cheek. "It's for your return back to school!" exclaimed her mother as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. She went over to Violet and reached for her arm. "So, how's it feeling?"

Violet's first reaction was to snap her arm back as quickly as possible. Years of hiding her scars had drilled her to keep habits that would best conceal her depression. However, there was nothing left to hide, even though Violet swore that she could still see ghostly blood drip down her skin.

"It's fine," said Violet, her voice surprisingly steady. "It aches a little, but that's it."

Her mom pulled up her sleeve and yet again every fiber in her being rebelled against the action, yet she remained still through sheer willpower. Her mom carefully touched the smooth, red scar along the underside of her arm, looking up briefly to see how Violet reacted. Then, she gave the mother's OK and let her have her arm back.

"You still have a little more healing left," said her mom, returning back to the kitchen and resuming her cooking. "You'll be all healed up in a day or so."

"That's good," replied Violet absentmindedly, her mind focused on the invading tingle that her mom's hands had left behind. Acid or no, that part of her was secret, even though there was no visible reason to keep it so.

_You need to relax, Violet. Start the day out well, have all of your wits about you. You don't want to confront him and be caught with your pants around your ankles!_

Violet ate, but she was only able to get a couple bites down because the butterflies in her stomach absolutely refused to settle down. She glared down at her stomach and smacked it, sticking her tongue out at its relentless fluttering. She instead drank her orange juice and listened to the conversations around her."

"…in Pleasantville an hour away." Dash's plate was stacked high with pancakes and Violet knew that he would finish it all. One reason was because he had a track meet that day and he needed as much energy as he could get (even though it was hardly necessary). The other was because his stomach had been replaced by a black hole when her brother had begun his teenage years.

"Pleasantville?" Her dad's eyes appeared over the edge of his newspaper. "I haven't been there in ages. Last time I was there I was disassembling a doomsday device planted by the Illuminator." He sighed with content, slightly drifting from the topic and into his memories. "Good times, good times. I wonder if he ever made his way out of that cement truck."

"The guys there are supposed to be pretty good at the shot-put," said Dash, his fork poised over a rather impressive chunk of pancake. "Our guys aren't that good. If they can get enough points there, they might actually beat us." He stabbed down and shoved the food into his mouth, miraculously finding a way to chew. "I may be fast, but I can't win for everyone."

Violet guessed on that last part. It sounded more like, "Uh mph buh fush bu eh an wun er ehone," but years of dealing with her annoying little brother had given her some translating skills. Still, her nose wrinkled at the different particles of food flying from his mouth and landing on the salt and pepper shakers. Her dad, being the male he was, hardly even noticed.

"Remember, Dash," said her father, "slow up and don't overdo it. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Dash. He started eating his food again, noticed that Violet watching him, and then with a grin asked, "You like seafood?"

"No, Dash, I'm not in the mood-"

"Aaaaahhh!" His mouth opened and a disgusting mixture of chewed pancakes and orange juice threatened to fall out of his mouth and back onto his plate. Violet gagged.

"Dash, that's nasty!"

He closed his mouth quickly and swallowed. "Not as nasty as your face!"

"Daaaad!"

"Behave, kids," he said, his attention clearly focused on the sport's column and nowhere near the sibling fight that was threatening to ensure over the pancake stack in the middle of the table.

"I'm just teasing, Vi," said Dash, actually sounding apologetic. Violet kept forgetting that her brother wasn't a hot-headed elementary boy anymore and was actually maturing. It was startling and unsettling and a part of her didn't want him to grow up.

"Yeah, well," she grumbled, feeling awkward, "it's… fine."

Her father suddenly jumped and he put his paper down and turned to Violet, a very serious look on his face. She turned to him, confused.

"Dad?"

"You have detention today with…" He struggled with his name and Violet was split from laughing and feeling sorry for him. "…With Mr. Pine," he ground out, his jaw tight.

"Yeah," nodded Violet, "I do. Why?"

Her dad seemed to grow bigger and a look of protectiveness came over him. His voice sounded deadly. "If he does anything to you Violet- _anything _at _all_- you let me know." He cracked his knuckles, a dangerous smirk on his face. "I'll be happy to take care of him."

Dash looked gave a long look at his dad and then gave a long, low whistle. "Woah." He looked over to Violet. "But it's the same with me, Vi. I'll be happy to bring that creep down again." He gave two lightning fast punches in the air before rubbing the edge of his nose with a sniff. "I'll bring him down, no worries."

"I think everyone in this household would like to get their hands around his neck," said her mother, appearing around the corner, looking at Violet with a caring, motherly look. "I suppose that's the benefit of having a super family, yeah?"

_Benefit or curse. Depends on the situation. _

"It's okay you guys, I'll be fine." Violet got out of her chair and looked over her entire family, feeling a small swell of love of them in her chest, but if she was going to get her point across, she would have to hide that.

"I can take care of myself," she said, her eyes lingering a little longer on her father whom she knew would protest. "Of course I'm going to tell you if anything happens to me, but hopefully I'll be able to take care of the situation _by myself._" Violet went over to the door and picked up her backpack. "I'm sixteen. I can take care of myself."

Her mother went over to her, concern and a little sadness mingling in her eyes. "Honey," she said softly, brushing a stray hair out of Violet's eyes, "sixteen is older, but not too old. You don't, or shouldn't take on everything on your own."

Violet bristled with irritation. "I am too old enough," she retorted. "I mean, come on! I helped bring down a supervillain and his stupid giant robot when I was only thirteen."

"I know, honey," said her mom with a smile, "but still."

Violet frowned, but she knew better to argue. She'd keep her thoughts to herself. Instead, she allowed herself to be kissed goodbye and waved farewell to everyone else before she went outside to wait for the bus.

_I am too old enough. _Violet's hair wavered slightly in the morning breeze, her thin hands gripping onto the straps of her backpack. _And I'll show them. I'll defeat Syndrome all by myself. _The bus came, Violet got on, and then she began to mentally prepare herself for the day.

_You can defeat him. You have the power, not him…_

Violet was mildly surprised to see the front of her locker covered in decorations and get well cards. A blue helium balloon with a sharpie-drawn face hovered above her, smiling down at her. Opening her locker revealed even more cards and chocolate bars that were shoved through the then air vents on the door. Everything tumbled into her arms as she struggled to put everything away, an act that would shun any professional juggler.

"Violet!!"

Violet's attention snapped to the voice and she lost her concentration. She made one last feeble attempt to get everything in place before it all came crashing down in an avalanche of colors and smells. It tumbled around her feet and she looked down at it with disappointment before she faced the voice.

"Hi, Kari."

Kari squealed and rushed to her friend, giving her a giant hug. Quickly, she jumped back and rushed to check Violet's arm.

"Oh my gosh!" Kari inspected it from a distance, on the verge of freaking out. "Did I hurt you? Please tell me I didn't!"

"I'm fine," eased Violet, laughter tickling her throat. Her friend was always so dramatic. "I'm feeling good. The medicine Mr. Pine gave me really helped." She moved her arm up and down. "See? Just fine."

Kari let out a huge sigh of relief, clutching her chest. "Thank goodness! What kind of best friend would I be if I sent you back to the hospital?" Kari peered over Violet's shoulder. "Woo wee! What a mess! Let me help you clean that up."

"Thanks." Both knelt down and a couple minutes later everything was put away just as the five minute warning bell went off. Violet threw on her backpack and began to head to her first period, math, Kari right on her heels.

"Did you finish the homework?" asked Kari.

Violet grimaced. "Yeah, right after my brain exploded. I don't get why we have to keep reducing all these complex fractions. I mean, if you just take half…"

Violet slipped into the role of the ordinary high school girl, complaining about the newest homework assignment and gossiping about the new kid who transferred from Russia. It was a seamless act and for a while, she forgot completely who she truly was. It was during these times where she could find some of her happiest moments. Of course, there was a constant niggling in the back of her head that kept reminding her that she was more than the girl who always complained about the quality of the food served in the school. Sometimes though, she wished that feeling would disappear.

_Let me be normal, at least for a little while. _But it was that desire for normality that almost made her forget her _true _purpose, and considering the predicament she was facing, it did no good to forget.

Lunch had come and Kari waved goodbye to work in the kitchens. Violet stayed in the infamously long lunch line, waiting for her turn to be served. To her luck, bread sticks had been prepared that day, one of the few school lunches she actually enjoyed (even though it was mostly for the peanut butter and chocolate dessert that came with it). When she had finally gotten her lunch, she had begun to go over to her spot closest to the back windows in the cafeteria. She had lots of friends, but she valued her privacy.

Then, the niggling had mentally slapped her on the back of the head and reminded her quite abruptly that she had lunch with Buddy.

Her arms began to tremble as her stomach started flip flopping. The items on her tray rattled together as she shook, appearing almost sick. She wasn't sick though. She was nervous… and excited.

_I can do this. _She turned off of her normal path and began to head slowly to the chemistry room, her heart beating faster with each step. _Don't be afraid. Stay strong. Be the super you are._

She continued to talk to herself, doing her best to focus and concentrate her courage, but her nervousness threatened to override everything and send her running home. By the time she was a few steps away from the chem door, her milk had been knocked over four times and her napkin was somewhere in the hall behind her. She gripped the tray tightly and shut her eyes, trying to find a quiet place inside of her. It was terribly hard, especially considering she could hear Buddy's frustrated voice from inside the room.

"… can't tell the difference between the work of a student and a bowl of pudding…"

Violet took a deep breath, hurdling all of her thoughts into one collective part of her mind, all the jumbled feelings and ideas condensing into an intimidating but manageable concept. She pinned it into place and focused on it, smoothing it out and looking it over.

_It's either you or him, Vi. Take your pick._

Violet took another breath before she slowly began to put up her mental and emotional barriers. She prepared herself for any distressing comments that would most assuredly come from him. Then, she began to plan what she would say or do in return. Little bits and pieces of her plan gathered around her like a protective vest, giving her an opportunity to safely ease the dizziness from her head.

_Okay. _Violet straightened her back and put on the best look of indifference she could manage. _Here I go._

Slowly- cautiously, she opened the door, peering around its edge. Buddy had not looked up yet, but the previous anger she had heard from him was seemingly disappeared and had been replaced by a rather cool and collected individual, perhaps even a little arrogant, although no one could really know why. She took one step in, waited for him to talk, then took another step, and another, and another after that-

"Close the door," spoke Buddy suddenly, his eyes still looking down at the work before him, his tone basic and unrevealing.

Violet started at his voice and immediately set about mentally berating herself for leaving herself vulnerable. She shut the door with her foot and then made her way to the desk in the back of the room.

_Pay attention, Vi, don't let yourself get caught off guard-_

"Sit in your assigned seat."

Violet froze midway to her desk, but did not move to turn around. Her hands clenched tightly onto her lunch tray as she struggled for her words along with enough saliva to properly voice her thoughts.

"It's not class time," she said quietly, noting the sound of Buddy's pen ceasing its scratching. "I don't have to sit there."

She felt his eyes come up and bear themselves upon her back, but she did not move.

_I have the power… Please let me have the power._

"Sit in your assigned seat," he repeated, his voice harder and hinting irritation. Still she did not move.

"I am assigned that seat in chemistry, not detention." She took a deep breath and turned around, locking eyes with him. She would have crumbled, but her shields were up and her mirrored, resilient gaze was not about to be broken.

"I don't see the reason why I must sit there." A pause- _Please, God, protect me- _then, "Or maybe you just wanted me to be closer to you, _Buddy_."

A dumbfounded look was plastered on his face for the briefest moment- _Score one for me- _before he grew red. It might have been embarrassment except for the complete look of murder in his eyes. Pure, pure _hate, _full and hot and dangerous and so, so _evil-_

_Syndrome…_

There was no time to run. All she could do was stand there and wait for her impending death. It was there, oozing out of every part of him in dark waves directed solely at her. His fists were clenched and his jaw was taunt and so much _anger-!_

Abruptly, as if someone had thrown a switch, Buddy was there and it seemed as if Syndrome had never existed, as if it had all been a figment of her imagination. But her imagination couldn't replicate the cold fear and dread sitting in the bottom of her stomach like a cement block. Violet swallowed.

_What am I doing here?_

Buddy sat there for a moment, not doing anything but looking at her. No words, no emotion except for the remaining flickers of his anger, but soon even those disappeared, leaving behind an introverted man who seemed to be looking straight into her soul.

"Alright," he said unexpectedly, his voice smooth and low, "you can sit back there if you want."

Violet's mind jumped. "What?"

Buddy's eyebrow rose. "Did I stutter?"

"N-No." She caught herself, biting her tongue. She recovered with a firm look. "It's just you being 'nice' is..."

"Nice?" He crossed his fingers together and placed them on his desk, leaving over with a cynical smirk on his face. "I wouldn't use the word 'nice.' Perhaps… tolerant?"

"Tolerant?" it was Violet's turn to give him a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, I suppose it's beyond you to be _truly _nice."

Anger flashed in Buddy's eyes. He stood up from his desk and went to Violet, circling around her. Violet didn't cower, but inwardly she very much felt like a mouse under the eyes of a hungry wolf, which was not a very good feeling. The feeling grew worse with each step he took, each sound echoing slowly in her head. She could feel is aura pulsating against hers, nearly stifling. It got closer and stronger and she let out a gasp when Buddy's face was suddenly level with her own, his bright blue eyes piercing her. Those eyes were now filled with irritation, anger and… amusement. He smiled, but on his face it looked like the grin of a predator.

"You know," he said, that same, unsettling smile twisting his lips just enough to send chills down her spine, "I am not an idiot. Do you think I am?"

Violet stared into his eyes, her hands trembling. The contents on her tray clacked as she struggled to defend her mind against his onslaught.

_Don't let him win. Stay strong, don't give in… _She was distantly aware that her eye stung. She hadn't blinked in ages it felt like. Her lungs also hurt. Did she forget how to breathe?

Buddy's hands, without warning, came out and gripped onto her lunch tray. His knuckles barely brushed her skin, but it sent a startling jolt of energy through her, kick-starting her motor functions. She took in a deep breath and blinked rapidly, her eyes watering slightly. He took her lunch from her and set it on a nearby desk before he turned back to her and moved closer. Instinctually she backed up. He moved again and she took another step back. This continued until Violet found herself pinned up against a desk, Buddy looming over her. That same rapacious look was on his face as he leaned over and placed both of his hands on either side of her on the desk, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his throat. Violet's hard was thudding in her chest, her whole head dizzy.

"_Violet._"

Her name fell from his lips and she whimpered, fear crawling through her limbs like demon vines, curling up and around her nerves and burying themselves into her brain, shooting down and rapping on her lungs. He leaned even closer, the smell of his minty breath hitting her face and filling her nostrils. Immediately, her legs went weak and they buckled, Violet falling against the desk, her arms shaking.

"Again, Violet…" Buddy was still smiling, but as each second passed by, it grew more and more twisted. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No," she breathed, her voice trembling.

Her walls crashed down around her when his hand came out and brushed her cheek before it came down and cupped her chin, turning her face so that she faced him fully. Her whole body was quivering, a sigh shuddering from her when his thumb caressed the curve of her jaw. She shut her eyes, her senses overloaded.

_I can't do this. I can't…_

"You're not stupid, either," murmured Buddy, inspecting her face with hidden scrutiny. "Seeing that we're both fairly smart, we both know what's going on."

He took a step forward, pinning Violet completely to the desk. She fell back and he caught her, arms wrapping around her. He held onto her tightly, but there were no ulterior motives behind his embrace except to keep her upright. Still, she couldn't stop shaking.

"You are aware of what I am doing." He brushed his fingers slightly across the fine hairs on her head, watching the strands cling to his fingers before falling. "If you didn't know, you wouldn't try to fight me." Buddy's fingers clenched and he looked down at her, eyebrow raised. "Correct?"

Violet was gasping, vision hazy. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes."

Buddy chuckled quietly. "But are you _sure _you know? Absolutely?"

"No." He was making her feel so weak, so very weak. She was going to faint, fall away and drift like a pebble in a river, lost to the current of his voice, his touch…

He laughed again. "Ah, Violet, you never cease to amuse me. Jumping head first into the unknown yet again. So brave and so foolish all at the same time." His head tilted and he came closer, his eyes filling up her vision. "You have no idea why this is happening, do you? Why you feel like this. You're confused, aren't you?"

Yes, she was confused. She was also feeling as if she was separating from her body, her soul drifting above her as her body fell to the depths of sensation. She was losing, failing, being drug further and further away from her true goal, one that had been so far from her reach. She was lost, fading, no more Violet, just a shadow, caressed by bright blue eyes…

Then, as if she had been plunged into a bath of ice water, he was away from her and she was mercilessly drug into the present, everything zooming in onto the now. She clutched the desk as she fought for balance, the blood in her arms and legs rushing back as the vines of fear retreated along with the distance between her and Buddy. Once her fear was gone, all that was left was anger. Anger and shame.

_Dammit. _She gripped the side of the desk, her knuckles turning white. _Dammit, he got me._

And she knew with a sense of chocking certainty, Buddy knew that he had one this round.

_Why? I had been so prepared, so ready. How did he do that? _Then again, it _was _Buddy Pine, and Buddy Pine had many tricks up his sleeve. That bastard.

Buddy made his way back to his desk, sat down, and began to do his work as if nothing had ever happened, which infuriated Violet beyond comprehension. He merely gestured over to the sinks. "Clean up the test tubes and then arrange them from size. After that, redo all of the labels on the jars."

Violet bit her tongue so she wouldn't say anything she would regret. She slid off of the desk and then quickly set about straightening her clothes and her hair, anger causing her fingers to tremble. Yes, she was angry with Buddy, but mostly she was angry with herself.

_You lost, Violet. You lost big time._

Violet, in her fury, had forgotten to eat lunch.


	11. Temptation

A/N: Difficult, difficult, stubborn chapter this one was, but I'm pleased with how it came out. Almost.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Temptation

_"I'll put a spell on you... Sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first. Sometimes, the first thing you want never comes."_

_"Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung_

* * *

_She smells of vanilla. _

The thought was forbidden and uncalled for and terribly disturbing, but it had come before he could stop it. Once it came, it let loose hundreds of other small thoughts and feelings, amplified by the small proximity between them, a space that _he _had diminished by his own free will.

_She smells of vanilla and flowers. Her skin looks smooth and her hair is soft like silk. Her eyes are deep and rich with color and her lashes flutter like wings, purple dust from a butterfly, drifting away as she flies with the wind, further and up. Escaping, or at least trying. She is startled and fearful and frightened by me._

Behind his mask, he was balancing on a precarious edge of calculating villain and typical man who had the inability to deny any form of physical beauty and happiness. He knew with a disquieting twist in his stomach that if he wanted to, he could manipulate Violet into doing anything at that moment. Anything. The hunger that was steadily building in him threatened to take over and do what it pleased, revenge or no.

It was either grace or luck that he was able to stifle his urges, but even though he was not attacking Violet, he still had longing tugging on his insides, directed at the woman before him who was spiraling further down into her own desires. However, there was a difference between his and her urges. He was aware of his, knew how they came to be, and was experienced. She was naive, young, vulnerable, and slipping down a slope that he knew she had never explored with as much scrutiny he was forcing her to apply at that moment. It was this knowledge that held him back.

_Not too much, though. _He still had a job to do. Still- and he knew this quite clearly- he was jumping ahead far too fast which could only spell disaster in the long run. He may have her at the moment, but such attraction and sensation would only bind her to him for a brief amount of time. He was going to have to throw a couple more ropes around her, sprinkle a little 'friendship' here and there followed by unshakeable trust. Only then would he be able to truly have her in his clutches.

Maybe then he'd be able to satisfy the yearning that was now permanently sitting in his chest and stomach.

_It's not necessary, _argued a rather stubborn part of him, a part that unfortunately was laced with guilt._ Besides, she's a _girl. _You're just getting caught up in the moment._

A less virtuous part of him was prepared to refute the argument. _She's not a girl. She's a woman. _A pause, then as if to add frosting to the cake he thought, a_nd she smells great._

When he had planned the seduction, he had no intention on pushing it further than a couple caresses here and there and perhaps a kiss. Instead of sex, his reward would be her trust. But, and Buddy pondered this with careful inspection, wasn't the trust part of the sex? That was the result of seduction, the trust of the woman, allowing the man to bed her. His desire for trust ultimately lead to another desire only recently discovered. Who was he to deny that?

_You'd be a monster._

Syndrome frowned. _I'm already a monster, thank you._

Despite the inward debate raging inside of him, Buddy felt as if he needed to let the argument rest lest he go crazy with all of the conflict building in his mind and- dare he say it? His _conscience? _Certainly with all the turmoil churning in almost every part of his body was proof enough that perhaps he, for once, felt embarrassed by his thoughts.

_Letting this go, now. _He pushed the tangled mess of desire and guilt far to the side, brushing it under the rug and ignoring it completely. He had more important things to take care of, things that were lying in front of him on the verge of passing out because of hyperventilation.

Buddy, during his internal showdown of values, had salvaged one important piece of information, and that was he was pushing things too quickly. He had to pull back before he skipped any important steps and failed at the seduction.

_Then I shall end it here. _

Buddy found it extremely odd that he had not yet moved yet even though he had declared he was done with messing with Violet's mind for the time being. He told himself to move again, but the result was the same. In fact, his arms seemed to tighten.

He glared. _Move your arms, you slow-witted man before all of your work goes down the drain. You want to seduce Elastigirl instead?_

Ah hah! The magical words had been said and he let her go and swiftly went back to his desk. He polished his shields, checked to see if he had all his thoughts in order, and then shed his previous allure for his teaching shell, revving up all previous feelings and thought patterns of the average chemistry teacher. It was back to business and school and he wasn't about to wait for Violet to catch up even though he was most positive she was struggling to resurface from her confusing thoughts.

_Keep up, Violet, or you'll never even have a chance._

He sat down at his desk and picked his pen back up, resuming the mind-numbing work of correcting homework papers. He did not look up, but he heard the sounds of almost normal behavior come from Violet.

_Good girl. Maybe with a little practice you might actually be a worthy foe._

He gestured to the sinks. "Clean up the test tubes and then arrange them from size. After that, redo all of the labels on the jars." He did admit that the abrupt change in the atmosphere in the room was quite hilarious. The previous charge of attraction was now replaced with anger and he felt it coming off of her in stifling quantities. This, of course, only served to make the situation even more humorous for him. His amusement showed itself briefly though a smile. Glancing up, he knew Violet was far from smiling. In fact she looked down right furious even as she moved to straighten her clothes.

The sight of her straightening her clothing raised such a weird and alarming thought in him that he jumped slightly, his pen falling from his hand.

_All of this is going to my head. _Inconspicuously he picked his pen back up and resumed his work, Violet none the wiser. Still, this did not soothe his irritation.

_Who would have thought that this would be the most difficult part of my revenge? My own thoughts, betraying me. _He frowned. _Out of everything in this world, I had thought my brain the most trustworthy. _He glanced over to Violet who was slowly making her way to the sinks, her long, black hair swaying slightly with each step. His frowned turned into a sardonic smirk.

_Well, I guess I was wrong._

Violet started to work, her hands grabbing roughly onto dirty test tubes before she shoved them under the faucet, attacking them with an old scrub brush. She was glaring intensely, or at least as far as he could see from his seat a few yards away. She was obviously still very angry and it wouldn't surprise him if laser beams suddenly shot from her eyes and blasted the glass into thousands of pieces. He took gratifying satisfaction out of the fact that it had been him to infuriate her so.

"Be careful with those, Violet. You wouldn't want to have to replace them, would you?"

She froze and stiffened. He waited, wondering what she would do. After a moment, she began to move again and to his delight her movements were less harsh. He smirked to himself and went back to work, occasionally glancing up to Violet and seeing how far along she was in her work.

The tension in the air grew as more time passed. The only reason why it did not shudder and snap was because of the background noise of work and cleaning. The scratching of Buddy's pen and the scrubbing of Violet's brush pacified the ever increasing animosity between the two. Of course, this negativity came from the girl, not from Buddy. After all, he found her discomfort and anger pleasant and entertaining all at the same time. It was a delightful combination. It even raised Buddy's spirits to the point where he was humming and tapping his foot to a jovial song in his head.

Violet's reaction to his happiness was quite the opposite. With each note that Buddy hummed, she grew more and more incensed. Her bad mood showed itself all over her face, her bright eyes burning with anger and her thin lips twisted into a scowl. Her work increased ten fold, her hands moving so quickly that all the test tubes were soon cleaned and she was already scribbling new labels and slapping them onto the appropriate containers.

Buddy, his work also done, watched Violet. He found it amusing that she was so easy to read. She was an open book, her pages fluttering freely. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Buddy was mirrored and only those he allowed could see what he was really thinking. Of course he had his slip ups, but for the most part no one could see beyond his social mask.

_Violet, Violet, _he inwardly chided, _this must be one of your greatest weaknesses, and perhaps _my _greatest advantage. _

With her emotions so open and easy to figure out, it made it effortless to gauge what kinds of actions and steps he should take. It was like being given a map to her mind, revealing all the hidden paths and dangerous roads. It really was almost too easy.

_The only problem I am going to have to face is, in the end, myself._

How odd. Defeat Buddy so Buddy could win. He had never encountered such a challenge before. Seeing that the only thing he could possibly be intimidated by was himself and his greatness, he guessed that this would be one of his greatest foes ever faced before. Buddy versus Buddy, a match-up of a lifetime.

_No. It's not Buddy. It's Syndrome._

Buddy versus Syndrome. Buddy found that he didn't much like that battle. He found it even more disturbing that he feared the outcome.

_I don't want to even know…_

The door to the chemistry room suddenly opened. Both he and Violet turned around, startled by the sudden intrusion. It had dissolved the hostility in the air, it disappearing completely by the sight of a group of 'popular kids' standing in the doorway, lead by the symbol of everything pink and trendy and rich, Jessica.

"Mr. Pine!" Jessica waved, a rather impressive feat considering the girl's arms were filled with rolled up posters and papers and different colored markers. "Hi, Mr. Pine! We're Clearwater's prom committee and were here to, like, help you!"

Absolute silence.

Buddy's brain stumbled to a halt and was now feebly trying to make its way back into coherent thought. Once it made its way there, it plopped down and began to register the situation. Its response was a curdling feeling of mixed dread and awfulness in his stomach.

"What?" was his delayed, croaky reply.

Jessica cocked her head slightly to the side before she grinned and laughed. Everyone behind her immediately followed suit. "Oh, Mr. Pine, you're, like, _so_ funny!"

_I'm not funny._

Jessica pointed to a nearby desk. "Let's set up everything over there, okayzies?"

Buddy found that he felt oddly detached from himself as he watched, practically numb, a swarm of kids invade his classroom and begin to pile on things onto his tables that he would never even dream of touching. Glitter, heart stickers, perfume-smelling paper… It was all too much. The only thing that stopped him from charging over and unleashing his villainous fury upon everything that sparkled and was cute was a sudden and unexpected noise coming from the direction of the sinks.

Violet was laughing.

Oh, she was trying to hold it in, but was doing a horrible, horrible job at it. He snapped his head towards her and she jumped a little, biting down on her trembling lip.

"Is something the matter, Miss Parr?" seethed Buddy.

Violet's mouth opened to reply, but Jessica had jumped up and was holding two different colored hats, pink and blue. She held them up, compared them with a careful eye, and then suddenly threw one on his head, inspecting it with intense scrutiny. All Buddy could do with the dwindling mental power he had was stare at her, a very basic fact forming in his mouth.

"You're not a very smart girl, are you?"

Jessica apparently didn't hear him. "Oh my gosh, these will be, like, perfect souvenirs! We'll sell them at the door." Jessica grinned. "The blue feathers look good on you, Mr. Pine!"

Jessica skipped away, leaving Buddy standing by himself. He could only be described as awkward, soft, blue feathers sticking high out of the much-too-small hat that had been forced over his orange hair, a not too pleasant color combination. He turned slowly to Violet, brave enough to see what she had to say about the situation.

She looked as if she was about to burst. He glared a very deadly glare, putting as much anger and I-dare-you-to-say-something in it, but his glower only served to make things worse. She snorted and her hand went up to cover her mouth as another chuckle was choked down. This, of course, made Buddy even angrier. Angry and very embarrassed. He had never been in a situation like this before. Yes, he had been embarrassed before (having your butt handed to you by a baby did things like that) but being laughed at by Violet produced irrational reactions and feelings from him that were on a totally different level of discomfort.

That discomfort soon changed into rage and his hand curled into a fist, eyes narrowing into slits of wrath.

_**Nobody **__laughs at Buddy Pine!!_

His hand whipped out and he gripped onto the hat and threw it to the ground. He slammed his foot down on it, crushing the feathers and tearing seams. Then, he looked across the room, the old instinct of control kicking in.

"_Stop_."

Only one syllable, but it was filled with a tone that would prove to be deadly if crossed. So, everyone stopped, dropping everything and turning to him, everyone frozen with fear. Buddy, his shoe still planted firmly on the hat, slid his cold gaze across everyone in the room, it lingering on Violet who had stopped laughing all together. He imagined she wouldn't be doing something like that again in a long time.

"_I _am in charge of this _committee,_" he said firmly, his patience completely gone. He wasn't about to let a bunch of bumbleheaded teenagers make a fool out of him.

"I want complete respect and total obedience." He reached down and removed the hat from the bottom of his foot. He held it up at arm's length, staring at it with discontent, and then threw it before the feet of the students. "Do not think that I am like your other teachers. I am not your _friend. _I do _not _want you to think we are on a familiar level." He glared harshly at Jessica who immediately cowered. "This is no time for fun. This is serious business, putting together something this size. It requires caution, serious determination. I do not need giggling nincompoops who are only good at spreading gossip and texting. I need adults, not little kids." He drew up his full height and looked down upon them as if they were little more than scum. "In conclusion, you listen to me without question. If you have a problem with that, then you might as well get out of my sight."

A long silence. The teens looked at each other, sharing uncomfortable glances. A few of them actually did leave, but others stayed although they did look much paler then when they walked into the room, Jessica especially.

"Okay, Mr. Pine," said Jessica quietly, "we'll be good."

Buddy stared at her for a second, and then gave a derisive smirk. "What luck. It looks like I'm going to have to plan this _thing _after all. Even better, I have _you _to help me."

Jessica cringed at his nastiness but he felt no shame. The little girl deserved it for making a fool out of him, especially in front of Violet.

_Violet._

He glanced over and saw that Violet was staring at him with hard eyes. There was fear mixed into her gaze, perhaps even a little of the emotions she had felt when he had her pinned to the desk, but mostly it was disgust. She saw him as a callous fiend whose only purpose was to crush anything happy, even scaring kids to the point where they fled. He was nothing more than a monster and he knew that she would have little to do with men like him.

And Buddy, to his horror, felt hurt by those damned eyes of hers, those eyes colored like the petals of poisonous nightshade, its sickness striking his heart.

_How dare you judge me. You have no right, girl! _But in an ironic twist of fate, she _did _have the right. She had the power to do so because, in the end, it was _her _who would decide if he got his revenge or not. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he had to ultimately bend to her because if he didn't, she would leave and he would be left without a way into the Incredible's home. She held much control and it had been him who unwittingly gave her that ace.

_Fine, _spat a voice within him. _But even though she holds some of the power, I have all the rest. I have other methods, but this happens to be the easiest and I have no time to waste. _

He smiled and saw Violet's eyes widen slightly with surprise.

_Alright, Violet, I'll give you this round. I'll be the saint you want me to be, at least I'll try… for a little while. _

He glanced over to the kids who were all watching him with quivering fear.

_How am I going to remedy this situation?_

He thought for a moment, and then an idea hit him. It would require some good acting, but there were no worries. It was, however, a shoddily planned act and he wasn't very confident of its success, but he had little other choices.

_Try to smile, Buddy, even thought it might kill you._

He turned suddenly and addressed the rest of the students with forced happiness. "Now then!" He clapped his hands together. "Now that I have weeded out all of the weak students, I would like to say to you, congratulations!"

The students jumped, their eyes wide with confusion. Then, confusion turned into astonishment as the stared at him. Even Violet looked as if Buddy had suddenly sprouted horns and wings.

"Uh..." Jessica scratched her head. "What?"

"I had to test you to see if you were capable of handling the difficult and arduous task of planning the senior prom, especially considering how large and expensive it will be this year." Buddy forced a smile onto his face, a part of him wondering if any of them were buying this. "I purposely acted scary to see who had weak wills. You few stayed, despite the fact that I did my best to dissuade you from the task with my over-zealous demands." He laughed. It sounded awkward and almost too loud in his ears. "But you guys stayed. So, you're worthy to stay on the committee!"

His scene done, he waited for a reaction. He was prepared to argue his case when they suddenly turned on him and called him a phony. Even to him it all seemed silly and almost stupid, but he did what he could on the spot. He hoped that his sub-par improvising had done at least _some _good.

To his luck, relieved looks fell onto the student's faces, a few nervous chuckles here and there. Jessica fanned herself, catching her breath and laughing. "Oh wow, Mr. Pine, what a weird test. But I like it! Maybe I should, like, use that later. It's a good idea."

"Yes, well." Buddy's enthusiasm dwindled into tolerance for the teens' presences. "You may use it later if you want."

As the teenagers came together and began to chat about him and the test, Buddy turned to Violet, his curiosity almost burning in his head. How had he fared with her?

From the look on her face, he had fooled her. Almost. There was still doubt in her eyes, but the overall look of revulsion had left, leaving an almost perplexed emotion on her face. Her eyes flickered up and caught his and she let her confusion show.

"…I'm not sure whether to believe this or give you an Emmy," she said, her tone hinting her bafflement.

"I suppose you'll never know," he said quietly, humor lacing his words.

She gave him a look, arched her eyebrow slightly, and then turned away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She picked her sharpie back up and began to write another label. "So… The prom?" It was an attempt to try small talk, but considering their… relationship, there was no way idle chatter could be comfortable between them.

"Yes," he said curtly, not very much liking this topic being shared between them. "I have money and a debt to repay. If they didn't jump on this opportunity, I would think them to not be human, considering our ever growing greed."

Violet nodded. "I suppose."

The conversation ended there. Buddy doubted that they would ever have a relaxed chat between them, and he privately wished that they never would because it would be a sign of familiarity. To have that with her, a tool, would prove to be disastrous.

_It's almost a shame. I bet I could have some interesting conversations with her. _He glanced back at her, his eyes following the shine of her hair down her back before it drifted over the curve of her hip and back up along the side of her ribcage. _Then again, there's always more than just chatter…_

"Oh no!"

Buddy turned to the horrified exclamation, his whole body tensing at its shrill tone. "What? What's wrong?"

Jessica was on the verge of tears. Sniffling, she turned around. To Buddy's surprise, the butt of her designer jeans were covered in the school's breadstick dipping sauce. He looked back up at Jessica's watering eyes, her trembling lip, and then he stifled the urge to laugh.

Jessica coughed, hiccupped, and then sobbed. "I just _bought these!_"

_Ah, karma._


	12. Detention

A/N: (clears her throat) The inevitable has happened. This story just went from mild to Cajun spicy. So, I'm **changing the rating to M. **I attempted to keep it T, but… Well, I failed. I had to tone it down a lot already and it's still… Yes, well, you can find out for yourself if you dare! (insert evil laugh here)

Oh, and I want to apologize for the extremely delayed posts. I have _severely _limited time on the computer and while I do write most of my work in my notebooks, the transfer is long and boring and it takes a lot of time. Not only that, twenty pages of notebook paper only equals about ten pages of computer paper, so when I think I've done some major writing it's only HALF. What a bummer. BUT I've finally got chapter twelve done and now you can enjoy it or hate it, whichever you prefer.

Oh, and if you missed/ignored my warning above, there's some sexual themes heading your way this chappie. Read at your own risk!

ONE LAST THING (I know, I just can't shut up) I want to thank you guys, the readers and reviewers. You make this story all the more fun to write.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Detention**

_"I gave you my purity, my purity you stole... Take in the extent of my sin"_

_"Sin" by Nine Inch Nails_

* * *

_What am I going to do?_

She had to tell someone, but not just anyone. Someone she could trust, who wouldn't judge her.

Someone who wouldn't throttle her when they found out.

The person she needed to speak to, despite the constant bickering and fighting, was her brother. He was annoying and rude and sometimes she wished he would run and keep on running out of her life, but they shared a bond. It was deep, strong, and true. It was the unique connection between brother and sister and she could trust that he wouldn't be so quick to turn his nose up at her in disgust.

_Please let him understand. I don't know what I'm going to do if he doesn't…_

She held onto her blonde teddy bear and hugged it tightly, the top of its head still wet with her tears of confusion and anguish. She kissed it, whispering to it, asking for luck, and reluctantly made her way to her brother's room.

The house was empty except for them, her parents out doing grocery shopping. This was a small grace that Violet felt thankful for. If something went wrong, there'd be no one to barge in and throw everything up into the air. She already knew that what she needed to talk about was going to cause enough chaos on it's own. Toss in a couple of enraged parents and the whole house might collapse.

She hesitated in front of his door. Inside she could hear Dash playing his video games. A part of her was happy to note that she shouldn't interrupt him during his _very _important gaming, but she knew she was just being a silly chicken. She had to talk to him or else she might go crazy.

_I'm already crazy. I'm crazy and I'm sick and I'm a disgrace to his entire family. And now I'm also a silly chicken._

She knocked, hugging onto her teddy bear tighter. As she waited for him, she prayed to God for strength. She was going to need it and his forgiveness now more than ever.

Dash opened the door, prepared to be the annoying brother he was supposed to be, but the moment he saw her, he grew solemn and a look of worry crossed his face. "Crap, Violet, what happened to you? Your face is all red from crying!"

Seeing her brother's concern and hearing the troubled tone in his voice unlocked the floodgates and her sorrow burst forth. She broke down into tears and ran into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. She felt his arms immediately come around her, hugging her tightly. He was talking, but she couldn't hear him above the roar of her weeping and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Dash! I'm so sorry! I thought I could handle it, but I couldn't, I can't! I'm losing. I might have already even lost!" She cried even harder. "Mom and dad are going to hate me forever, I know it!"

"Woah, woah! Violet!" Dash pulled her away from him and held her at arms length, trying to catch her eyes with his own. "Violet, you need to calm down. I can't understand you when you're crying like this."

Violet choked down a particularly loud sob and sniffed loudly, her bottom lip trembling. "S-sorry," she blubbered, her shame amplified by her own behavior. "I can only make mistakes, can't I?" She trailed off into another bawl, burying her face into the back of her stuffed animal.

"No, Violet, that's not what I- Violet!" Dash looked almost as upset as her. He was agitated and looked confused as to what he should do. Eventually, after watching his sister for a little longer, he pulled her into his room. He maneuvered her over to his bed, sat her down, and then shut his door, leaning against it and catching his breath. Then, he looked over to Violet who was still crying. His previous worry rose back up into his features and he crossed over to her quickly.

"Alright, Violet," he said as soothingly as he could, sitting down beside her and holding onto her hand, "you need to tell me- _without _crying- what happened."

Violet, sniffling, raised her head and looked over at Dash. Her brother looked so concerned, so worried. She wasn't making things any better. He wanted to help her and she wanted that help. She needed to get better control over her emotions.

"Sorry," she whispered, her voice watery. She sniffed. "I'm calmer."

"Good," breathed Dash with relief. "Now, tell me what happened. You just got back from school, didn't you?"

Violet nodded, her guilt and self-disgust rising within her. "Yes."

"Did something happen there?"

Her grip on her bear tightened. "Yes," she said, her voice so quiet, Dash could barely hear it.

"Tell me what happened."

Violet looked over to her brother, down at her feet, and then away at the wall. She needed to focus on something else so that she could recall the tale without bursting into tears.

"Alright." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and her mind. "But before I tell you, I need you to promise me that you won't el anyone. _Anyone, _Dash. Not your friends or mom or dad or _anyone. _Got it?"

Dash, having never been asked to do this before, began to worry even more. "Violet… what in the world happened?"

"Promise me, Dash!"

He bit his lip. "…Alright," he said after a pause, "your secret is safe with me."

"Good." Another breath. "You aren't going to like it…"

"Probably not, but tell me anyway. I can take it."

"Not this you won't."

"Try me."

Violet smiled softly. Her brother cheered hr up without even trying. "Alright, but I stand by what I say." Her mind drifted back an hour before. In her memory, she heard a school bell and the excited chatter of students.

"It was the end of the day. I was so happy to go home, but…"

* * *

_An hour earlier…_

Violet had detention.

_Crap, crap, crap, dammit, dammit, no! _She kicked a nearby locker, regretted it with each twinge of pain in her toe, and then limped/sulked to the chemistry room, kicking out at anything on the ground that looked weaker than her foot. Eventually she had to pause because if she didn't, she was afraid her foot would pull itself from her ankle and leave her to heal on it's own.

She sighed.

_This day couldn't have gone any worse._

Not only had she gone from class to class with her head in the clouds, stupid blue eyes dancing every so often in her imagination, she had stained her shirt. Technically, Joshua Bartelli and his moron of a friend had done it, but it had been her own fault to get into the middle of one of their stupid marker fights. Now, a not-so-handsome streak of black ran all the way down the front of her designer shirt.

_The day I wear Edna's designs is the day the stupid boys decide to be even _more _stupid. _She looked down at her shirt, glared at it, wished it would disappear, and then continued to sulk, her anger simmering. _On top of that, I have freaking detention. God, I have to have lunch with him, chemistry with him, and now I have to give my afternoons to him, too? What a greedy little bastard!_

Violet didn't want to think about the rest of the week and all of the other hours she was going to have to spend with him. That day was stressful enough. Imagining beyond that day and dwelling on it would only result in frazzled nerves and an ulcer.

_If thinking about it does this to me, I shudder at the thought of actually having to live it._

But, even though the anger and the loathing of having to have detention with him, she had a strange feeling that something was going to happen. Something… bad. It was as if each step she took caused a dark, glooming part of her to grow bigger and bigger. It developed and began to merge with her stressed emotions, morphing them into nervous apprehension and fear. Yet, despite this ominous warning, she kept walking. She was driven by the desire of revenge. Buddy had beaten her soundly their last encounter, and she was determined to repay the favor.

_You idiot! _seethed a very angry part of her. _You're going to lose- again! You're trying to tame a lion who is more like a crazed chimera! Get out while you still can. Talk to your parents, anybody! _The voice pleaded and, if it had a body, it would be on its knees. _Don't do this. You can only fail. He's much stronger than you, physically and mentally. _The voice grew sad.

_He will crush you._

Violet stopped walking. While she should have been a tiny bit disturbed about the fact that she just had begged _herself_ to stop what she was doing, she was more focused on the heavy stone of dread that had been dropped in her stomach by the truth of her inner self's words. She _was _making a stupid choice, but what was even more disturbing was the fact that she _knew _this. She knew she was being stupid- no. She was being downright foolish for making a decision like confronting Buddy on her own. Not even her father had been able to take him on alone. He had needed the help of the entire family plus more. What in the world had inspired her to make the decision to battle Buddy on her own?

_But that's just it. It's _Buddy, _not Syndrome… right?_

She hoped it was just Buddy. She prayed it was just Buddy. But it wasn't. She knew this. She had _seen _Syndrome, _felt _syndrome. She might be able to take on Buddy, but not his other half. Perhaps not ever.

_Then why am I doing this?_

Because a part of her wanted to see and hear Buddy _and _syndrome because both of them intrigued her beyond normal curiosity. Because she wanted to prove that she was capable of defeating her enemy on her own and without other peoples' help. Because he threw her into a pool of sensation that swirled around like magical stars in the milky sky, dancing and shining and striking a chord within her that made her want to twirl and cry and sing his name over and over, a mantra of _complete ecstasy_-

She stumbled to a halt. Excitement and nausea were boiling within her at the same time, creating a potent, but nasty combination. She held onto her stomach and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Her mental cry of his name still rang in her mind, echoing over and over in a declaration of guilty rapture. It was absolutely disgusting.

"Oh my God," she choked with disbelief, "I think I'm attracted to Buddy!"

In her defense (a defense she was desperately constructing so that it may preserve her sanity) Buddy was purposely trying to entice her and putting a lot of effort and skill into it too. She had nearly lost it when he had pinned her to the desk. It had been so frightening, but the thrill had left her breathless and wanting much, much more. He must have had special schooling or something because by all things natural and intelligent, she should not be lusting over a man that had attempted to kill her and her entire family _plus _innocent populace just because he wanted a little fame.

It made absolutely _no _sense whatsoever.

_It feels like nothing is what it is supposed to be anymore. I'm going crazy, or the world is going crazy, or _somebody _is because this is absolutely _insane!

She was losing herself in confusion. She had to bring order to her thoughts before her brain self-destructed from crazy overload.

_Okay. _She let out a deep breath, going to the side of the hall and sitting against some lockers. She closed her eyes. _Let's make a list. We'll put down all the info we have so far. _She mentally conjured a notebook in her mind, a pencil soon following, and began to list.

_One: Syndrome survived, physically and mentally._

_Two: Syndrome's alter-ego, or rather his original alter, Buddy, has most of the control now._

_Three: He works at Clearwater High as a chemistry teacher._

_Four: He…_

Her thoughts stumbled, embarrassed, but she quickly continued, not wanting to lose her train of thought.

_Four: He seems to 'like' me, for lack of a better word._

_Five: It's almost positive that he has ulterior motives and considering who he is, they cannot be good. But what in the world could he want to-?_

Then, it hit her like a humiliating slap to the face.

_He's trying to get to my family, duh! Why else would he want to flirt with me?_

She ignored the small pinch of sadness she felt.

_Okay, so chances are that he's using me to get to my family, but… _She frowned. _I can't be positive about this. I don't have any proof. Besides, I've been wrong before._

She would have to come up with a test for him to take. It would test him on his motives and what he really wanted. Only until after that would she be able to draw any conclusions.

_But what in the world could I do? I can't exactly hook him up to a lie detector and call it good. No, it has to be more complex, something not so obvious._ She sighed. _Where's some truth serum when you need it? I bet my dad would have an idea what to do. He has experience with these kinds of things. _She snorted. _Yeah, but if I told him I'd be dead and then he'd go after Buddy. Then he'd _have_ to tell the truth, innocent or no…_

Suddenly, an idea. It was a bright light bulb of genius and Violet almost cheered.

_That's it! Buddy needs to come over to dinner. I need to welcome him into my home with open arms. If I, along with my family, play it cool and hospitable, we should be able to see if Buddy is innocent or a conniving little devil. Surely if he's evil, he'd try to do something to us, but we'd stop him, bring him down, and put him right back where he belongs: In a cell._

While this plan seemed brilliant, is posed many problems. The first was the danger aspect. Letting an ex-murderer into the house of his most despised enemy to see if he would kill _again _was not the greatest of ideas. Secondly, her family would _never _agree to the plan, even if it could unearth Buddy's potential evil plot. Because of all of this, Violet suddenly found her plan to be almost defunct.

_Great, _she pouted, _the time I am struck by genius is the time where everyone else, including the world, seems to hate me._

She _had _to find a way to make it work. It would probably take a few hours out of her sleep time and a couple of her last good nerves, but she _would _find a way to get him into her house, even if she had to force him in there with brute strength.

_If I'm lucky, even _more _inspiration will come my way and I'll be able to think of something before the end of the day._

However, as much as she wanted to brainstorm, she had an after school date with Mr. Pine.

_Not sure if this is good or bad. Good because it might give me some ideas. Bad because _no one _should _ever _be alone with Buddy Pine. _Either way, she had to get to the chemistry room lest he saddle her with even _more _detention.

She got up from her spot on the ground and continued her slow trudge to his room. The feeling of foreboding returned, but Violet ignored it. She could not waste any time worrying. She needed to focus and pay attention and keep her guard up-

_I think I just had déjà vu because I could have _sworn _I had already said this to myself. How did it end? Oh yeah, I utterly failed!_

Just telling herself to keep her guard up did absolutely nothing because every time she saw and met with him, he distracted her and made her completely forget what she was supposed to be doing. She was just going to have to roll with it. Whatever came her way, she would do what she could to counter or deal with it.

She felt a little safer winging it, as if it promised her infallible protection. Or maybe it was because there was no longer the threat of having her shields broken and then having to have to deal with the naked fear afterwards.

She eventually made it to the chemistry room, her pace having been reduced to less than a crawl. Her heart felt as if it was going to jump out of her chest and the speed it was beating. She swallowed, the fear from before pushing itself to the prominent parts of her mind. Again, the inner voice pleaded for her to not go, but she disregarded it. She pushed it everything that would hinder her down to the dark parts of her mind, out of the way. Then, she straightened her back and stepped into the room.

The moment she was in the doorway, she _knew _something was wrong. The room was dark, the heavy blinds drawn completely closed. It was empty and completely void of any life. Yet there was a startling feeling of danger all around her. It hovered in the air, clinging to her and causing her skin to crawl. She looked around, her hands wringing together.

"Hello?"

Her voice echoed through the empty room and came back to her without a reply. She took a tiny step in, hesitant to go much further. She peered over the lab tables, wondering if someone was hiding.

"Hello? Anybody here? Mr. Pine?" She hesitated. "Buddy?"

Again, no reply. She frowned slightly. If Buddy wasn't going to make the effort to show up on time, then she wasn't going to stay.

"I'd better leave a note, just in case he tries to say I didn't come," she thought aloud quietly. She unzipped her backpack and tore a sheet of paper out of one of her notebooks. Then, she searched for a pen. It was her unfortunate luck that she couldn't find one.

"Darn it! I think I left it in sixth period. That was my last one, too." She sighed at her forgetfulness before she glanced around, looking for something to write with. "There's got to be something in here I can use. It _is _a classroom after all." She stepped into the room and headed over to Buddy's desk. There was bound to be a pen there she could use.

The door suddenly slammed shut. Violet spun around, fright leaping into her throat in the form of a scream, but a quick gesture from Buddy silenced her.

"No need for the cry of terror," he said evenly. He leaned back up against the door, crossing his arms and looking at her with a disturbing gleam in his eye that caused shivers to run down her spine. "And for the record, _I _was on time. _You, _however, were ten minutes late. Now, tell me, do most straight A students behave like you've been lately?"

"Open the door," whispered Violet, her fear growing. The ominous feeling within her was also growing, mingling with her fright and twisting together in a sharp spear that jabbed at her chest. It kept prodding with each second that she stared at the shut door, her emotions bleeding ill-omened thoughts. She was in a closed off room, alone, with Buddy Pine.

Her fright soon morphed into terror and all warmth left her body, replaced with a cold feeling of dread. The situation could only get worse. It wasn't because she was in any danger, per say, but something bad- bad meaning a plethora of things- was going to happen. Looking over Buddy, his confident posture, the near perfect symbol of masculinity, she knew with a unsettling shiver that her resolve, whatever was keeping her sane at that moment, was going to crack, it being the trigger of whatever doom was heading her way.

Buddy shook his head at her reproachfully. "You didn't answer my question, Violet. Personally, I think that you're acting much like a black sheep. It can't look good on your records.

"Open," spoke Violet threateningly, "the door." She was in no mood to play with him. She wanted the damn door open so that the crawling fear inside of her would stop eating away at her insides. It was growing worse and worse with each second that went by. She felt like a steak dropped to a hungry lion. Buddy almost looked like that lion, at least in her eyes. It wouldn't surprise her if he suddenly licked his lips.

"Open the door," she demanded again, her anxiety clear.

Buddy chuckled, which did absolutely nothing to ease her. "You really want this door open, don't you?"

"Yes," was her curt reply.

"Why?"

"Because, you make me feel things that I shouldn't. You make me confused over the simplest of things. You are a dangerous man who can't have anything else but evil intentions. To be short, I do not trust you." She took in a shaky breath. "Now, open the door."

There was a long silence in which Violet and Buddy stared each other down. The tension was strong between them, adding to the chaos of her emotions. She needed to get out of the room before she fainted from all of the anxiety tearing at her from the inside out.

Finally, Buddy spoke.

"What will you do if I open this door?" he asked, his voice not betraying anything.

"I am going to leave," she replied brusquely.

"You can't do that. You have detention."

"I don't care."

"You couldn't be expelled."

"It's better than this."

Another long pause. Buddy regarded her evenly, staring at and beyond her intensely, before he stepped to the side- and blocked the doorknob.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave," he said, his voice low.

If Violet hadn't known true fear before, she did now.

"Why?" she beseeched him with pure terror, her whole body shaking. Her fear rose to immeasurable heights when Buddy began to move towards her. She could not move, she could hardly breathe. She could not scream, her throat was constricted by panic. She felt sick. Her stomach was churning horribly, causing her to grow dizzy. She stumbled back slightly, her balance lost briefly to her nausea. Still, she could not freely move, not while he grew closer and closer to her, his smart, sharp, handsome, terrifying blue eyes staring straight into her soul.

"No," she whimpered when he was only a few feet away from her. She shook her head, her whole body trembling. "No, stay away from me!"

Buddy stepped to her and moved to hold her. She flinched and a small cry of protest escaped her lips, but his arms came around her anyway. He drew her to his chest, but then his embrace grew tighter. Tighter and tighter, the air crushed being crushed out of her lungs. Her back cracked and her face began to turn blue as more and more life was squeezed out of her, drawing her into darkness. Death rapped at her door, pulling her further into the abyss, her vision shrinking into blackness.

_I'm dying. So many things I wanted to do, so many things I wanted to say, but now I can't because I have no body to move with, voice to speak with. I'm so foolish, so stupid. It's my fault I'm dying, dead, gone…_

Violet blinked, and then everything stopped. There was no crushing feeling, no sense of death, and as the remnant of her nightmare subsided, she found herself to be comfortably wrapped in sturdy, yet soft, warm arms.

Violet looked up at Buddy, complete confusion plastered all over her face.

"…Buddy? Why?"

He did not look at her. His eyes were locked somewhere on the wall on the far side of the room.

"Because," was his curt, useless reply.

She stared at him for a moment, thousands of questions bubbling up, but she let them settle. Instead, she turned into the embrace, trying to figure it out on her own, but before she could begin to piece everything together, she noticed her head was resting on a firm chest. A steady, healthy human heartbeat thudded underneath. It was even and strong and it was soothing music to her battered nerves. She pressed her ear closer, closing her eyes and letting the beat fill her mind.

"You're warm," she commented with slight surprise, easing into his embrace. "How can a man who is so evil be so warm?"

"Biology," replied Buddy with a shrug. "I am, in the end, only human."

"Oh." She stared at the stitching of his shirt, inspecting it much more closely than anyone else had ever done. "I guess that makes sense." She continued her inspection for a moment longer, and then, much to her own shock, nestled in closer.

_So warm._

His arms tightened slightly. The small gesture startled her violently, throwing her abruptly into reality, everything falling down around her as if ice water had been dumped over her head. She stiffened, her eyes widening, and her breath stilled almost completely.

_What _in the _world _was she _doing? Why _had he embraced _her? _And why in the hell was she enjoying it so much? It had been so sudden. First she was on the verge of collapsing from fright, and now she felt completely languid and almost relaxed in _Buddy's arms. _What had happened? Where and when did everything become inverted and black was white and up was down and Buddy was _warm? _

She looked up at Buddy, utterly bewildered and almost sick.

"Buddy?"

_What is going on?!_

He looked down at her briefly, already able to register just how unsettled she was. He looked away from her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought silently to himself, and then he began to shift. His arms moved, she along with them. Soon, she was leaning up against his left side, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist. His hand came out and brushed the soft skin of her cheek with the barest of touches. She closed her eyes, trying to turn away from him and his delicious touch in the hopes that they would break away and she wouldn't feel so confused anymore, but he held onto her chin and tilted her face up so that she had to look up at him.

The moment her eyes met and locked with his, she was done for. His gaze was filled with an intense emotion that burned her blood. Longing rose within her and she pressed herself closer to him, trying to take in more of his warmth. His eyes darkened at her gesture.

"Violet."

She shivered. She loved the way he said her name. It was like velvet, smooth and soft, but deep like thunder. It electrified her, thrilled her. She wondered if she could do the same thing; stimulate him with just a word. A gentle caress of her innocent tone, one filled with warmth and desire for him…

"Buddy."

To her amazement, she felt his stiff body shudder, which, in turn, made her shake. He grabbed onto her with both arms, spun her around fully, and crushed her to him, their bodies coming together in a near intimate embrace. Violet gasped from al of the sensations she was feeling and clutched onto his shirt, holding on for dear life.

"Violet," he said again, his voice husky, "how much do you hate me?"

Finally, some normality, which appeared not so normal, considering the position they were in, but the question allowed some of her previous spitfire to return and she automatically went on the attack.

"I hate you with every fiber of my being," she whispered harshly. His hand held her even tighter and she tightened her grip to the point where her fingernails dug into his skin, causing him to hiss in pain.

"You hate me that much, huh?" He chuckled. "I would have never guessed."

"This is all your fault," she hissed, jumping when his hand caressed the small of her back.

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean for it to be a compliment," she spat, her eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"But a compliment it was," was his irritating reply which was soon followed with another spine-tingling tickle of his fingers upon her skin. Violet bit her tongue to stop the exclamations of delight that threatened to come from her.

"I'm not sure why you're doing this," she managed, "but-"

"I already told you why, _Miss Parr,_" he whispered, his smirk devilish. "I told you I wanted to get to know you. You are, after all, so _fascinating._" A pause, and then he gave her a hidden look she could never decipher.

"You let me hold you like this," he said, his diction duller than usual, "yet you do not trust me. Explain."

Violet couldn't answer because she was not sure. How _could _she let him do this? He was a killer, a murderer, a villain. How could she possibly-?

"Let me rephrase what I said," she said suddenly. "I do not trust Syndrome. Buddy Pine on the other hand… Well. Maybe him."

His mouth twitched. "You would trust only half of me?"

"Precisely." Her eyes grew analytical as she stared into his face. Her gaze must have been very intense because even he flinched slightly.

"The question is," she said quietly, "who are you now?"

She apparently caught him off guard because his eyes widened fractionally. Running on instinct (_Keep rolling with it, Vi!_) she suddenly pulled away from him and began to pace, putting her hand to her chin in thought, making an exaggerated show out of her ponderings.

"Which one of you wants me? Buddy or Syndrome?" She peered out of the corner of her eyes to try and see what he was thinking, but she saw nothing, so she continued on with her musings. "I'd be lying if I told you I knew." She stopped pacing for a moment. "Something else that baffles me is your reason for coming after me. You say you want to get to know me. I say you're lying. Or, maybe Buddy wants to get to know me, but Syndrome…" She turned to him, studying him carefully. She tried to see beyond him in a similar manner as him when he looked at her, but try as she might, she couldn't do it. Eventually she gave up, her bottom lip puffing out slightly in a pout.

"You're a very confusing man."

Buddy smirked slightly. He took a step closer to her. "So, who do you think I am?"

She looked him over intensely, saw his posture and compared it with old knowledge she had about him. After a minute or so, she found that she couldn't come up with a conclusive answer. He was just too complicated for her.

"I'm not sure," she admitted grudgingly.

He chuckled slightly. He took a few more steps closer to her. His voice was deep and smooth and his eyes were shining with hidden thoughts.

"Would you trust me if I told you the answer?"

Violet pondered his question carefully. Everything told her that the answer should have been no. Yet, the closer she looked at him and the small the space between them got, she truly felt that she could believe almost anything he said. There was this… _feeling, _she had about him, an instinctual knowledge that told her that she should believe him. These thoughts and more became prominent when he embraced her again, looking down at her with his beautiful blue eyes. Staring into those eyes, she opened her mouth and her reply spilled out.

"Yes. I would trust you."

Buddy grinned and something flashed in his eyes. His head leaned down slightly and his breath caressed her face. Her whole body shivered, the close contact causing all sorts of feelings to become supercharged, setting her whole body on a precarious edge. Something was building, an irreversible charge towards forbidden grounds. Even in the face of this doom, she refused to budge. She had to see, had to know. The hunger inside of her had to be sated.

Buddy's eyes darkened slightly, his lips twitched, and then he smirked.

"Then you already know who I am," he murmured before the space between them disappeared.

"Buddy-!"

But there was no time to move, no time to protest. His lips descended upon hers and everything collapsed. All coherent thought was washed away under the warm sensation of his mouth on hers. It was suffocating, exhilarating, and it made her want _more. _All of the tension within her cried to be released by his hot kisses and the confusing desire within her demanded satisfaction.

_Screw life. Screw everything. I don't give a damn. This just feels too good…!_

They broke away, gasped for breath, and then Violet kissed him, clutching onto his arms and pulling them closer together. She had no idea what she was doing. She was running purely on instinct, her tentative gestures going stronger and more demanding with each passing second. She could feel no hesitation on his part. Each movement he made almost felt planned and carefully calculated because each touch he gave held jolts of bliss that could only be delivered by a skilled hand.

_Like magic fingers._

His hand came out and held onto the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, his touch making shivers run down her spine. Her own hands were wandering aimlessly before she had to grab onto his shoulders so that she wouldn't pass out from the dizziness of her brain. She was experiencing too many feelings, each one coursing through her body like hot poison.

_Wonderful, delicious poison…_

The hand in her hair moved to her jaw. His thumb caressed the ticklish curve of her jaw, cupping onto it with a soft, but firm grip. His mouth opened and his tongue came out and licked her lips. She gasped and he delved in, deepening the kiss and driving her wild with feeling. His other hand came down and slid its way up her back, his warm touch making her shudder violently. His hand crept higher and then suddenly, his fingers brushed just under her breasts, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking the far too sensitive flesh of her ribcage.

_Oh my... _

His touch was too great for her. She couldn't take any more. Her legs gave out and she collapsed against him, her whole body going weak, tremors still shaking through her. Her eyes fluttered closed; she no longer had to power to keep them open.

He held onto her tightly, chuckling slightly. "Am I too much for you, Violet?"

She heard his words, but she could not form a coherent response. She was literally on the verge of crashing, her whole mind and body overloaded. All she could do was hold onto him and try to breathe.

"I'll take that as a maybe." He moved forward, Violet stumbling backwards and onto his desk. Papers fluttered and pens clattered to the floor as she felt herself being raised onto the desk. Firm hands held onto her waist, pinning her in place as Buddy smirked down at her, his sky blue eyes now dark. Then, his head lowered to the crook of her neck and kissed and bit her skin, causing her to moan with pleasure.

"Oh," she gasped. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring and darkening slightly. "O-oh Buddy, oh _God…_" Her lead lolled back, eyes drifting shut.

"God isn't here," breathed Buddy, holding onto her tightly, "just me, and I'm no God." He chuckled and leaned down to her. "Oh no, far from it…"

He kissed her passionately, Violet willingly accepting it. Her hands came up and wrapped around the back of his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and held onto his head as they kissed, his mouth dominating hers. She moved closer to him, his legs coming in between hers. He embraced her, pulling her forward. He pushed himself up against her, the contact causing her eyes to shoot wide open.

"B-Buddy!"

Her desire was building within her. It was stifling and it was consuming all thought, all sense. She felt as if she would die if she could not have more of him, could not taste more of him. She longed- _needed _him. She had never before experienced this exhilarating feeling of yearning and it was causing her whole head to fog up with a crimson haze as the feeling grew stronger and stronger, bigger and higher. She felt like a slave to the mind-numbing sensations. Everything that was her was being swept away by this all consuming pleasure, drowning her senses and blocking out any thoughts that would disrupt the moment.

As everything began to focus and condense down into the bottom of her physical heaven, she also became very aware of the man before her. She could smell his musky scent, it filling her nostrils and mingling with the warm air around them. She felt his muscles move and flex underneath her hands, each jerky movement from him revealing just how much physical strength he had. He was breathing heavily and she could hear the tiniest of groans come from him just before he bit them off through gritted teeth. His whole presence loomed over her, dominated her. He completely covered her and engulfed her with his aura.

When she realized just how much of her own identity and spirit was being consumed, fear leapt into her chest and the warm pleasure disappeared, replaced by a horrible feeling of sickness that froze all feelings of passion and blew away the fog of her mind with a freezing wind of reality.

Sudden visions of her family rose into her mind. Their once loving expressions were now twisted into scowls of disappointment and disgust. Their angry eyes were everywhere, burning her. They swarmed around her, filling up her vision. Everything around her grew cold and her whole body ached to flee from their horrible disappointment and anger.

"Disgrace!" chanted her family, their sickened eyes boring right into her soul. "Disgusting, filthy tramp!"

Violet's eyes slammed shut, trying to block out their horrible words. "I'm not a tramp! I'm not-"

"Dirt! You're an ugly stain who needs to be removed!" They spat at her, clawed at her, pulling her further into the pit of despair. Violet cried for release, her arms pulling away from the frozen, scornful hands of her shame, but it held onto her, tugging and ripping her away from all warmth. Echoes of her family's disgust rang in her mind, stifling her and causing her anguish to rear its head and scream its grief.

"Harlot! Sinner! Traitor!"

The hands grabbed her roughly and she twisted away, screaming. They were like ice and they stung and burned her more than any poison or fire. She tumbled away and collapsed onto solid, cold ground. She scrambled up and rushed forward, her eyes blind with tears and fear. She ran into something hard and through the pain she registered a desk, but everything told her to flee. To escape. Just run away, far away from her awful, clawing shame and the scornful voices. Disappear and fade away completely.

And that was exactly what she did.

* * *

"And so I went invisible," said Violet, her voice and mind weary from the tale. "I ran out of the school and didn't look back." She stared down at her feet.

"That's it," she whispered.

A long, tense, awkward silence. Violet didn't dare to look up. She was already filled with self-disgust and loathing, not to mention the horrible curdling feeling of her guilt. She was far too afraid to see what her brother thought. If it was anything like what the Dash in her nightmare had felt, she knew she wouldn't have the strength to deal with it.

The silence grew even longer and even more nerve-wracking. Violet had twisted the edge of her shirt so much because of her stress that it was a crinkled mess. Dread began to creep upon her, nausea along with it.

"Please," she croaked, "say something. Anything." She swallowed. "I don't think I can take much more of this…"

A short silence, and then Dash spoke. His voice was quiet and low and was filled with dozens of jumbled emotions. She couldn't figure out just exactly how she felt, which was deeply unsettling to her.

"Well," he said after a pause, "you were right."

"About what?"

"I don't like it. At _all,_" he added with a stressed glance at Violet which caused her to cringe. "And… jeez, Violet, I don't know what I'm supposed to do- well," he interrupted, "I _do _know what I'm _supposed _to do, but I promised that I wouldn't tell so…" He sighed heavily and ran both of his hands through his hair. "Wow, Vi, this is…"He let out a low breath. "Wow."

"Wow? Is that all you can say?" Her brow creased with irritation. "What does _wow _mean anyway?" She gave him a terse look. "Well, Dash?"

He grew defensive and gave her a hard look. Immediately, Violet returned to her former, emotionally unstable state. "Wow means, Jeebuz, how did this _happen?_" He stared at her, still stunned by her story. "Do you know what you-?"

"Yes," she interrupted with a snap before she grew meek. She looked away. "Yes, I know what I did," she finished quietly.

"Well, at least there's that," he mumbled. He glanced at her sidelong, looked over her carefully, and then his eyes softened slightly. "Vi… you must have told me this for a reason. What is it that you want from me?"

Violet stared down at the stitching on her bear's foot and began to pick at it. "I…" She smoothed out the string with the pad of her thumb, focusing on the movement of each caress. "I want you to tell me…" Her vision grew blurry and her throat constricted. The voices had been so angry, so disgusted with her. How would this be any different? She was bound to be hated by the real Dash as well. She was only dirt, useless, a disgrace.

"I want you to tell me I'm not hated," she whispered quietly, her eyes stinging. "I want to be told I'm not filthy or a harlot or… or some disgusting _thing. _I…" She chocked, her sorrow spilling over. "I just need to know I'm still loved!"

She cried uncontrollably, the memories of her sinful encounter with Buddy bursting forth in a wave that tore her apart. She wanted to hear soothing words, someone to tell her that things were alright, but things _weren't _alright and she knew that. She wanted false reassurance to numb the pain of what she had done, but she didn't deserve it. She had done something she never should have and because of that her loved ones and her future would disappear and she would only be left with her shame. Her horrible, sickening shame.

But then Dash suddenly hugged her and through her sorrow shone a light.

"It's alright," said Dash, hugging her tighter, "I still love you."

Part of the darkness disappeared, dissipated by the sound of his voice, and Violet smiled a wet smile, her love for her brother blooming in her chest.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

They hugged for a moment longer, but then Dash pulled away. Violet noticed with a slight smile that her brother's face was red with embarrassment, but he quickly sobered.

"Violet…" He looked awkward. It was obvious he was trying to be serious, but feeling strange because of the odd role he was given. "I do love you and your secret is safe with me, but…" He stared at her with open bewilderment. "Why _Syndrome? _I don't know if you've forgotten, but he tried to kill us, Violet. _Kill us. _Last time I checked that wasn't a very attractive quality in a guy."

"I _know, _Dash," said Violet, already feeling tired from the threat of conversation, "I know. Believe me, he was not my first pick, but…" She stopped.

"But what, Vi?" Dash raised an eyebrow at her.

Violet's eyes darted towards his for a brief moment before she looked away. It was her secret no longer.

_Besides, you've already told him the worst of it. Might as well lay the rest of it on the table._

"He kind of… came after me."

A long pause in which all Dash did was stare at her. "_He _hit on _you?_" He still stared. "You're lying."

"Dash, why else would I be wasting my time with him?" Violet leaned back and fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "You may not believe it, but he is a fantastic flirt, and he has this kind of aura that just… sweeps you away. And his eyes- oh my God, his eyes are-"

"Stop!" Dash clapped his hands over his ears. "No more! I can't take this torture!" He made a face of disgust. "It's bad enough you're spouting mushy, lovey-dovey stuff about a guy, but _Syndrome _being that guy makes it _way _too much for me to handle." He gave her a disturbed look. "Man, anymore of that and you might just convince me that you _are _meant to be with that deranged lunatic." He shook himself as if to rid of unseen dirt, and then looked at Violet again, surprise creeping into his gaze.

"So… He really…?"

"Yeah." Violet's face hardened. "But I think there's more to it than that. I think he may be planning something."

Dash's ears pricked up as did his interest. "Oh? Like what?"

Violet gave him a waspish look. "Come on, Dash. He's trying to get close to the eldest child of the family of his greatest enemy. Put the pieces together."

Dash's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, but then widened suddenly with clarity. "Oh! He's trying to get revenge or something, yeah?"

"Maybe, but I'm not sure." She sighed. "I'm never sure anymore."

"What's there not to be sure about? It's obvious, Vi."

"Even so! We don't even know what he's exactly planning. We can't draw any conclusions." But Violet already had a feeling there wasn't much more to it then what Dash had said. She just kept hoping that her hunches were wrong.

She wanted to know how he truly felt.

"Well, okay," said Dash, still unconvinced. "Whatever you say." A pause, and Dash began to look uncomfortable again.

"What is it, Dash?" asked Violet, a little wary of his answer.

His eyes darted around the room and then he took a deep breath. "Are you gonna keep dating him?" he blurted out in a rush.

Violet blushed tomato red. "Dash, we aren't-!"

"Cause if you are, I've got to try and convince you not to."

Her embarrassment disappeared as quickly as it had come. Now all she felt was low, simmering irritation. She gave him a suspicious, guarded look. "What do you mean, Dash?" she asked slowly.

"Exactly what I said." Dash's expression was one of worry and it briefly made Violet's anger dim. "Vi, you gotta know he isn't a good guy. In fact, he's probably one of the worst and while I'm not angry for what you did or anything, I know that it can't be good for you to stay with him." Dash's expression grew imploring. "Come on, Vi, surely you know."

It all made sense and yes she knew, but damn her, she refused to accept any of it. In fact, she grew defensive and all her thoughts ordered together to go against her brother's.

"I'm not going to stop," said Violet with a surprising amount of anger. "For one, I want to find out what he's planning, and two, I…" She stumbled, took a breath, and said quickly, "I happen to enjoy his company, so if you don't mind, I-"

"_Violet,_" breathed Dash with utter shock, "you don't actually _like _him?" His eyes widened even further. "you don't _love _him… do you?"

Violet's head snapped up and she made a face. "Love? Heck no!" She looked away, her stern face going slightly pink. "Like?" She shifted awkwardly. "Maybe."

Dash stared at her, baffled beyond thought. His mouth was slightly agape and it appeared as if his whole brain had shut down.

"Wow," he said after a stunned silence.

"I told you, he's a really good flirt. I can't help it!" Her head sank into her hands. "I wish I could, Dash, truly I do. It's not the greatest thing, crushing on a guy that's tried to murder you."

"I bet." Dash let out a tired sigh, rubbing his eyes. "Ugh, all this excitement's made me exhausted. But, really Vi, are you _sure_ you want to stay with him?"

She didn't need to think on it long.

"Yes."

Dash sighed again, but he gave her a smile. "Then I'm here to support you, but if he does anything to hurt you, Vi, I'm going to have no choice but to tell mom and dad." He gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let my big sis get hurt."

Part of her bristled at this, but it soon settled. Her brother was right to make a decision like that. It startled her to see just how much he was maturing.

"Thanks, Dash." Then, she grinned and hugged her brother, kissing him all over his face. "You're such a good little brother!"

"Ew, ew! Girl germs! Get off, Violet!" He pushed her off and quickly began to wipe his face free of cooties, glaring at Violet when she began to laugh at him. But she soon sobered and simply smiled a warm smile.

"You really are a great brother."

Dash looked away, embarrassed. "Yeah, well…" He coughed. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome." She picked up her teddy bear and got up from the bed, her muscles aching to be stretched. "I'd better let you get back to your game. Sorry for interrupting you."

"Oh, this?" He gestured to the TV screen. "It's no big. I've already beaten this level six times now."

"Yeah, but I still should get back to my room. I don't want anymore of my girl germs to taint this manly paradise of yours."

"Har de har."

"Thanks again, Dash. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"I'll come up with something," he said with a grin. "Don't you worry."

Violet nodded, smiling slightly. "Okay." She opened the door. Dash had already resumed his game, but she noticed he was making more mistakes than usual. It seemed that she had saddled him with quite a bit of info. She wondered how he was going to handle it. Silently, she apologized for distracting him and said another thank you.

"Later."

"Later," he said, giving her a quick wave goodbye.

She smiled and shut his door. Once outside, she let the empty silence of the house fill her. She breathed it in, letting it flow into her lungs, then let it out, cleansing and refreshing.

"Much better."

She went back into he room and shut the door. Then, she leapt onto her bed, bellyflopping onto her sheets before rolling onto her back. She held out her bear before her, it's stitched smile matching her own.

"You see?" she told it, shaking it slightly. "I told you that talking to him would be good, and you told me it wouldn't." she stuck her tongue out at it. "Who's wrong now?"

She let the bear drop onto her stomach. Her arms came and hugged it tightly as she rolled back onto her stomach. She pulled the bear out from underneath her, squeezing it and fluffing it. Then, she laid her head down on it, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"I think I should turn in early for the night." She yawned and stretched her body, her toes flexing. "I mean, I still have school tomorrow. I can't walk in there like a zombie." She looked at the stuffed animal. "I can't, can I?"

She knew that if she was going to go to bed, she was going to need to put on her pajamas, but she couldn't find the energy or the will to get up and change. She was comfortable right where she was, so she didn't argue with herself. She let her eyes droop and close shut, her exhaustion seeping into her body and bones. Deep sleep crept upon her and everything began to disappear as she drifted off to dreamland.

"Violet, Violet…"

_That voice._

Her eyes shot open and she was already up and off the bed. She stood in the middle of her room, her whole body tense. Her heart was racing with fear and adrenaline. That deep, seductive tone belonged to only one man, but she still felt compelled to ask.

"Who's there?"

A chuckle. It was coming from in front of her, but nothing was there except-

"Silly, disobedient Violet," laughed the voice quietly as Violet moved slowly towards the bed. "You really must pay better attention to your surroundings. You wouldn't want an _intruder _in your home, now would you?"

"No," said Violet carefully, her hand reaching forward, "I wouldn't."

"Hmm, good for you. You are quite… _smart, _after all," said the voice, his tone smooth like velvet.

Violet's hand grabbed the paw of the teddy bear.

"_Very _smart, indeed," complimented the rich, silky voice. "But, Violet, it just so happens that your carelessness has granted me a bit of info that doesn't flatter you very well. You see, I just found out that you've been talking about things that should not be discussed. Certain… _intimate _matters." The voice chuckled. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

Violet turned the bear's face in her hands and its face came into full view. It's eternally happy expression stared right at her, its glass eyes focusing its mechanical gaze right onto hers. From the sweet, innocent smile of the bear spoke a most sinister and seductive voice. It slid out in a nearly frightening manner, the cheerful persona of the bear twisted into something from a horror movie.

"Naughty, naughty, Violet," chided the ever smiling bear, "you have been a _very _bad girl, indeed."


	13. More Life, More Lies

A/N: Lol, you have _no _idea how hard it was to keep the language from getting raunchy.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: More Life, More Lies**

_"Deeper and deeper is all I'm turning to, living a life that seems to be a lost reality."_

_"Blind," by Korn._

* * *

The moment the classroom door slammed shut, Buddy wheeled around and, with a roar, swiped his hand forward and knocked a ceramic pencil holder off his desk. It sailed through the air and crashed against the edge of a desk, shattering into a mess of sharp pieces and broken pencils.

"Dammit… _Dammit!!_"

He grabbed hold of a chair and threw it to the ground, his teeth bared. He cursed again with a growl and tipped over a desk, feeling little satisfaction as he watched it fall to the floor in a stunning crash. There was nothing that would have been able to appease his anger then. It was too strong, too hot, and it was because he was nothing more than a lustful ape of a man.

"Why?!" he demanded, his roar heard by deaf ears. "Why couldn't I control myself?" He gripped onto his desk, his blood burning with fury and desire. "So close… I was so _close!_"

He closed his eyes, but immediately opened them. In the darkness of his mind, all he could see was her. Rage ripped through him and he grabbed onto a paperclip holder and threw it against the wall, paperclips scattering about and falling like metal snow. He spun back around and slammed his fist onto the top of his desk, right onto the same spot _she _had been sitting.

"I had it. I had her _trust._" His fist clenched tighter, tighter, his teeth were grinding together, and just as blood began to bead out of the wounds from his fingernails, he snapped, screaming his fury.

"I _had her trust!_ I _had it _and then I…" He gestured angrily. "I threw it away because I couldn't see past my _goddamn lust!!_"

He wanted to kill. He wanted to destroy. Everything, his plans, his revenge- gone. All of it dust in the wind because he had to have more of the forbidden fruit. His own stupid, foolish, idiotic fault. _All _of it. Now she was gone and his only chance was burned away.

"DAMMIT!!"

_Now _what was he going to do? Surely she would tell her parents and then he'd wind right back up in jail and he _wouldn't _be able to get out again.

"Not if I can help it," he said harshly, already moving quickly to get his coat and his bag. He glanced around the room, the scene of the crime. He wasn't going to stick around to clean it, but with a few convincing words and a healthy bribe, he knew the janitor would keep quiet about it.

_Miss Patterson can do it. I don't have the time or desire to deal with this right now._

All he wanted to do was get out of the damned classroom and the damned school and go back home where he could contact his lawyers and begin to build a proper defense for his case. He knew he had been lucky his first time in court, but he didn't think he'd be able to get out of this predicament scratch-free again.

_Absolutely brilliant, Buddy. You've really done it now, haven't you? _Buddy furiously grabbed his palm pilot from his bag, angrily sent his secretary an email concerning the janitor, and then roughly shoved it back into his bag. _This has to be one of the stupidest things you've ever done. Ever. And now look at you! Running away like a coward. What happened to your goal? Your revenge? What happened to _you?

Violet happened. How was he supposed to know how addicting the girl's presence was? One minute he was swimming along through the current of his seduction, and the next he was drowning, everything charging forward with hot, uncontrollable desire. It was absolutely disturbing. Somehow, his priorities had been confused along the way and within the small space of a second, when the barest of contradicting thoughts crossed his mind, all understanding and rationality fell apart and sent him spinning through a dark red haze. Finally, when he had resurfaced, he returned to himself, but it had been too late.

Where had his determination gone? His resolve? His _brain? _The words he had wanted to hear, the declaration of her trust for him, had finally rung in his ears like an angelic, crystal bell. And then he had taken that bell, smashed it to little pieces, and then proceeded to ravage the girl like some wild beast. Yes, he had gotten a response from her, but biology demanded it to be so. How much she physically enjoyed it didn't matter more than a rat's butt when it compared to her mental pleasure, and it had showed just how much it _enjoyed _the time by fleeing from his classroom, literally disappearing before his very eyes.

_You _had _to keep pushing it. You _had _to have more. Now everything is destroyed. Way to go._

Knowing that his plan was now to pieces was extremely unfortunate. Knowing that it was _he _who had reduced it to shambles was absolutely sickening, and before he could begin to think on it more, he shut off all thought and walked out of the classroom. Walk turned to jog, and before long he sprinted to his car, opened the door, threw himself in, and slammed his foot on the gas, not even bothering with the voice commands. Rubber burned on the pavement, the tires screeching, and he zoomed out of the parking lot, his dark thoughts barging relentlessly against the barriers of his mind. He nearly lost all his concentration and almost caused more than one serious auto accident, but somehow he managed to pull into his driveway still intact. His chauffer was waiting there for him in the same spot as every other day, but today he didn't want to see him. He didn't want to see _anyone. _In fact, he wanted everyone dead.

"Sir, welcome back-"

Buddy got out of the car and slammed the door shut with so much ferocity that the whole car shook. The chauffeur's face widened with fright, growing even paler when Buddy stormed towards him, roughly shoving past the man. He ignored all the eyes that were looking at him with bafflement and fear, dodged and ignored any gestures or words of concern or confusion. He went straight to his room, slammed the doors shut, and then proceeded to scream. He screamed and screamed, a roar of self-disgust and shame. He broke a few more things- a random vase, a picture frame- and cursed so loudly that the raunchiest of men would cringe. Then, when his muscles began to ache, his jaw throbbed, and his head was on the verge of exploding, he collapsed onto his bed face first, his fury bubbling down into a small, simmering annoyance.

He laid there for an undeterminable amount of time. He had no idea how many ticks his clock had made, which meant he had no idea how many minutes or hours had drifted on by. All he was aware of was the minor pains in his body, the headache creeping up behind his skull, and how soft his comforter was.

_I wonder who picked the blankets out._

His thoughts were interrupted by the unwelcome sound of the telephone going off. For a moment, he entertained the idea of pushing his face so far into his bed that he might escape the outside world, but a few seconds later he gave up. With a reluctant, irritated groan, he grumbled, "Answer."

The voice on the other end obviously sounded a little frightened and for that, Buddy was thankful. It reminded him that he was still very frightening and very dangerous. It was an ego pill he devoured readily.

"S-sir," stuttered the man, "t-this may not be the best time-"

"No, it's not. Congratulations for pointing out the obvious, but seeing you've already interrupted my time, you might as well finish what you've started."

"Y-y-yes sir! Sorry sir! It's just, uh… You might want to come to the control room. We've gotten the camera activated."

Buddy raised himself slightly off the bed. "It's operational?" He was up fully now, standing at the edge of the bed. "Both visual and audio?"

"Yes, sir. And… and the girl is talking to it. About you."

While many thoughts were racing through his head, each one as important as the last, one stood out amongst the rest. It was odd how this thought seemed to be the boldest of them all, but somehow it ended up as such and Buddy didn't have the time nor the desire to wonder why this was so. But he did know he wanted to obey that thought, and that thought demanded that no one hear or see what Violet said about him in the privacy of her room.

"Shut off all screens. Everyone out of the room. I will watch her on my own."

The voice on the other end stumbled, his words abruptly cut off. Then, he cleared his throat. "O-of course, sir. We'll leave immediately."

"Good." A pause. "Why are you still on the line? Leave!"

"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" The line clicked dead. Buddy, now alone, slowly sat back down on his bed, brow creasing slightly as he thought. Violet was talking about him. _Him. _If he wanted to know what she truly thought about him, the time was now to find out. Yet, even though the opportunity was one that was wished for by millions, Buddy could not find the energy or will to get up off his bed because a part of him didn't want to find out just exactly how she felt.

_But isn't it obvious? She thinks I'm some sort of snarling dog. _Even though this was most likely the truth, he could not help but tend to the smoldering idea that perhaps maybe she _didn't…_

_I must find out._

He got up and left rapidly to the control room. He hadn't been there since… well, not ever. He had designed and built both bears in the privacy of his room. When one of them had been delivered, it had been his great misfortune that the transmitting device within the depths of the hardware had been falsely designed. Two of the wires somehow crossed into each others paths. Messages were being sent and received backwards and sometimes not at all, and the only way to fix it was to shift though thousands upon thousands of numerical codes and pair them up with their proper hardware and signals. Buddy had assigned his team to fix the problem while he had gone back and edited his blueprints. He had no idea how he could have made such an embarrassing mistake.

_Maybe it was because your sleep-deprived mind kept drifting to certain subjects that only prove to make you even _more _insane._

He frowned. "Maybe," he grumbled, but then let the subject drop. He had other, more pressing matters to attend to.

Just as he had demanded, the control room was empty and all of the devices were shut off. The room was dark, only illuminated by the blank, blue TV screens linking the wall in front of him. Buttons on the control panel glowed like rainbow stars and quietly, almost silent, the hum of the equipment could be heard.

Buddy shut the door firmly and made his way to a swivel chair sitting in the middle-front of the screens. He looked around for a set of headphones and slipped them on over his head. Then, he located the two buttons that would turn on the audio and visual.

His hand hovered over the switches, that same nervous part of him causing his arm to freeze. Was he going to let himself crush the small, dwindling hope within him by revealing the extent of her anger?  
_I have no choice._

Another moment of hesitation and then he forced himself to move, pressing both buttons simultaneously. Immediately, the screens flickered on, but all he could see was a sliver of light. Where in the world was the bear? But his focus quickly turned to the audio. He pressed the headphones closer to his head and held his breath, listening in with rapt attention.

"I know that it can't be good for you to stay with him." It was a boy's voice that was no more than twelve or thirteen. It sounded familiar and when he thought about it for a second more, he realized that it was her little brother, the kid who had super speed. What was his name again? Dash? But that wasn't what was so interesting. No, it was the fact that he was talking about _him. _He didn't need to have his name said to know that he was the subject of their discussion. He listened closer.

"Come on, Vi, surely you know."

Buddy's eyes narrowed with confusion. Was the boy trying to convince Violet not to see him? But that made no sense. Violet didn't want to see him anymore. Why would he say something like that?

His heart began to race and he licked his lips, a grin beginning to creep into his features. He scooted closer, anxious. There was no way, _no way _that she…

And then came her voice, a chime of relief, a soft brushing across his aching chest, weight lifted and idiocy forgiven.

"I'm not going to stop."

Buddy bit down on his tongue to stop his cry of triumph. Relief and victory swelled in his chest and all he wanted to do was dance with joy, but he had to keep listening. His whole body trembling, he focused onto Violet. Even more thrilling, he noticed that Violet actually sounded angry from her brother's words.

_Yes!_

"For one, I want to find out what he's planning-"

_Still trying to fight me, eh Violet?_

"-and two, I…"

Violet paused and Buddy frowned slightly. Two, what? Something else she was planning? He waited and listened, his finger tapping with impatience. All this information he was receiving was filling him with almost too much excitement and energy. He wanted to sketch, to plan, to scheme, and he couldn't because the stupid girl wouldn't finish her sentence!

_Hurry up!_

"I happen to enjoy his company, so if you don't mind, I-"

Buddy nearly fell off his chair. _That _was unprecedented and as he stared at the screen, the sliver of light changing shape and widening slightly, he found his own stunned thoughts being spoken by her brother in that same flabbergasted tone.

"_Violet, _you don't actually _like _him?" A shocked pause, and then the boy asked a question that made all thought processes cease.

"You don't _love _him… do you?"

Buddy was gripping onto the edge of the control panel with so much strength that his whole hand seized up and was locked in that clenched position. He even stopped breathing because the thought that the girl could actually _love _him was… was…

"Love?"

Buddy took in a sharp breath.

"Heck no!"

And let it out, relaxing. He pulled away from the control panel and began to rub away the ache of his fingers-

"Like?"

He froze again.

"…Maybe."

There was a pause on both ends. Buddy was staring at the screens with absolute amazement. It mingled with shock, and on the edges of that, in the most minimal amounts, was pity.

_Stupid girl. You certainly know how to pick them, don't you?_

But this was _exactly _what he wanted and as the Violet and her brother continued to talk, a slow, but steady feeling of excitement and triumph began to build in his chest. The seduction was almost complete. The general shape of his plan was there, but there were still imperfections and cracks that needed to be smoothed and filled. He was going to have to spend a little more time with her, building up more comfort and trust. He would take his time, now that he had her within his grasp. In fact, he would even allow himself to be friendly toward her family if it would help to further his goal. He would sew himself right into the fabric of their lives and eventually, with patience and the right amount of affection and control, he would become a part of them, a black patch of memory. There would be smiles and laughter, perhaps even more than that, but behind the smiling face would always be a lurking beast of revenge. Then, when all had been forgotten, he would emerge from the folds, a shadow of wrath. He would finally bring his fist down upon her heads and shatter them. The fragments of their lives would fall around him in a beautiful mosaic of glass and blood and it would become his most precious piece of art.

Syndrome smiled. _And amongst the broken pieces will lay a butterfly and it shall be the most treasured of them all, the center of my glorious art. _

He wouldn't lie to himself. He was fond of Violet. She was fragile and beautiful like glass and he would always admire her. In fact, he was looking forward to the time he would get to spend with her. She was delicious, but addicting, and each time he touched her, a part of him drew back with pain. She truly was poisonous and if he had too much of her, he would most definitely die. She altered his mind in ways that no other drug could, and each time his vision swirled with black and purple, he knew that he was falling into a dark pit that took almost too much effort to emerge from. He often felt that the kind of sensation he experienced with her was of the pleasurable sort, but lately each time he got closer to her, he felt the darkness grow wider and each time it grew harder and harder to escape from. Now he began to wonder if it was something else he was experiencing.

_But what could it be?_

The sight of the inside of the Parr home startled his thoughts. They were outside in a hall and walking towards a door. Upon entering, he deduced that it was Violet's room.

_They're done talking?_

Suddenly, everything was whizzing past as the camera sailed forward and landed onto her bed. Again, his vision was blocked and he frowned.

_Maybe I should have cushioned the equipment a bit more._

Then, everything went sideways and upside down before Violet's face came into view. To his surprise, he saw that her face was red from crying, and again he felt another confusing stab of satisfaction and pity.

"You see?" The camera shook back and forth, making him a little dizzy. "I told you that talking to him would be good, and you told me it wouldn't."

_I never did such a thing._

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Who's wrong now?"

_Crazy girl. You need more friends._

Then, the camera fell, and he saw nothing else. He heard her move again; the room was back into view, and then everything shook around. Then, he nearly jumped when he got a giant shot of her eye. She had most definitely been crying. Her irises were extremely violet and puffy from all her tears. Even her lashes were slightly thicker because of collected moisture. He watched, fascinated, as those giant eyelashes of her blinked.

She suddenly sighed and began to speak. He jumped and immediately turned down the volume, his ears ringing. Her mouth was right next to the microphone and it had nearly blown out his eardrums. He waited until she stopped speaking, and then carefully adjusted the sound settings and turned the volume back up.

He might as well have left the volume off. Apparently the girl had nothing more to say because apparently she wanted to use his high-tech gadgetry as a pillow and apparently fall asleep, which Buddy apparently was not willing to accept. He had a bone to pick with the girl and he was going to get his word out whether she liked it or not.

_Serves her right for flapping her big mouth like that. _

He grinned. Perhaps he could have a little fun with this.

Chuckling to himself, he flipped on the microphone on the control panel. Leaning over, he licked his lips and smiled a sly grin.

"Violet, Violet," he reprimanded, his voice as deep and smooth as he could make it.

The girl immediately moved away and all he could see was a crooked view of her bed and her nightstand. He smiled to himself. Oh yes, he could have fun.

"Who's there?"

The question was so absurd, so clichéd, so _obvious _that he couldn't help but chuckle. "Silly, disobedient Violet." He smiled. "You really must pay better attention to your surroundings. You wouldn't want an intruder in your home, now would you?"

"No," she said after a pause, "I wouldn't."

She sounded calm, collected, and it irritated him a little, but on the other side of the coin, he felt pleased. She was a worthy opponent and he would always find a surprise with her. Then again, he didn't much like surprises.

"Hmm, good for you. You are quite…"

She was many things in his eyes, and if he told her half of those things, the outcome could be disastrous. However, credit had to be given where credit was due, even though it wasn't what he truly wanted to say.

"…_Smart,_ after all."

The camera suddenly jerked and his grin grew wider.

"_Very _smart, indeed."

She had found his little device, which was to be expected. Under normal circumstances, he would have _never _have revealed himself so readily, especially since he was dealing with the teenage daughter of Mr. Incredible. However, now that he knew just exactly how she felt about him, it gave him a respectable amount of courage that made him far bolder than he could have ever predicted to be. That being said, he continued to speak with ease, his voice like velvet.

"But, Violet, it just so happens that your carelessness has granted me a bit of info that doesn't flatter you very well." He leaned forward slightly. "You see, I just found out that you've been talking about things that should not be discussed. Certain…" He searched his word bank for an appropriate word. "…_Intimate _matters." He chuckled. It was far more than intimate, but who was taking care of the details?

"I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

The room began to turn, and like the sun rising over the hills, Violet's face came into view. She was staring at the camera as if it was something from her nightmares, a stunned expression that was filled with fright. He grinned toothily, and wondered what it would be like to be in her shoes. Just how scary could he make the bear?

"Naughty, naughty Violet," he chided with a sly, silky voice, "you have been a _very _bad girl, indeed."

Violet's eyes widened and she let out an scream before suddenly her face disappeared and he was back on the bed. He laughed and in the background he heard Violet trying to catch her breath.

"Buddy, _what_ the _hell_ is _that?_"

He figured she was pointing at the bear. "Why, this is my gift to you! Cute, isn't it?"

"_No,_" she said with a shiver, "not when your creepy voice is coming from it. Jesus, I think my heart nearly stopped!" She shivered again. "Now I'm going to have to pack away all the rest of my stuffed animals because I'm afraid that they're going to suddenly start speaking to me, too!" The bear moved and she came back into view. She was looking right into the bear's eyes. She looked carefully and brought the bear closer and closer until her eye filled all of the screens.

"Yes, I can see you, so if you don't mind, please pull your face away from the camera." An afterthought. "Oh, and you have something in the corner of your eye."

She pulled away quickly, wiped her eye, and then glared at the camera. "Buddy, I can't believe you did this. How long have you been spying on me?"

"Not very long, truth be told. Only for the past half hour or so."

Violet's eyes widened and all of the color drained from her face. She suddenly looked very sick, and Buddy allowed himself, in the privacy of the room, a smile.

"What did you hear?" she rasped weakly.

Buddy chuckled and then the color returned to her face, but it kept coming and coming until she was brighter than a tomato. "I heard enough," he said slyly, which only proved to make her even redder.

"Like what?" she asked, her voice shaking with suppressed emotions, hostile ones he felt.

"Enough, Violet. That should be a useful answer enough."

"But it's _not. _Dammit, Buddy, you tell me what you heard or so help me I'll-!"

"You want to know that badly, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. Come to my mansion and I'll tell you."

Violet stared at him for a long moment, flabbergasted. Then, after a long, silent pause, she openly regarded him with complete shock. "Why in the world would I do that?" she asked, and he noted that she actually seemed to wonder _why._

"Why?" He rubbed his chin, smiling; He liked being a smartass. "Because you enjoy my company."

She was now completely red. "You were listening for _that long?_ That's complete perversion of my privacy!"

"What does it matter now? I know what you know and you can't change that. What does matter, however…" He looked at Violet, traced each and every contour of her face, and then finally his gaze landed on her eyes. They were filled with questions at that moment, and Buddy felt hesitant to answer them because if he did, he might reveal a fact he did not want to hear, but he would answer.

_Where do you stand, Violet? _He would find out, test the ground around them, and then take the next step, hopefully resting on terra firma. He couldn't- _wouldn't- _make decisions blindly. He never wanted to be so disillusioned ever again. The fall had been harsh and it had taken too much to recover. He had to be careful, cautious, or else she could fly away.

"Yes, Buddy?"

He stiffened, but spoke anyway. "Where do you want this to go, Violet?"

Her eyes widened, and they were filled with pure shock. She faltered, and then she grew confused- no, undecided. Before she could speak, he was already talking. Something inside of him was urging him on, forcing him to reveal his thoughts- _her _thoughts. He would get his own answers, whether she liked it or not.

_Speak, butterfly. Tell me where you will go. Show me how far you can fly before your wings fall apart._

"What do you want from me, Violet? You say you like me; you like to be around me. Do you understand what that truly means?" He snorted, feeling a bit cynical. "People will not like you, Violet. In fact, people might hate you. I'm sorry to say, but you've already begun to skip down that path of darkness. You've… No, _we_ have already taken the first forbidden steps." He grew demanding. "How far are you willing to go, Violet? How much will you risk losing? How _badly _do you want to be with me?"

Violet stared at him, eyes wide. Words were formed and lost on her lips as thoughts whizzed though her mind in a blur. It was all on her face, her confusion, her indecisiveness. Her eyes darted away briefly as if she was trying to seek out something that could save her, give her an answer, but there was nothing there. All the answers were within her and her mind, and all it took was for her to seek and accept them for whatever they were.

But in the end, she could not answer.

"I don't know," she said, her voice the barest of whispers.

And, for reasons he could not explain, he accepted her answer. But he sought to explain them anyway, and when he thought about it carefully, he realized that there was no other answer than, "I don't know." She had very little experience with him, and visa versa. When he asked himself the same question, he could not form a proper answer. There were too many variables, too many foggy thoughts dwelling in the back of his mind. An answer would come only with time, and that was fine. He could live with that… for now.

"Fine."

She jerked. "It is?"

"Yes. It is."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said again, slightly terse, "it is."

Violet looked at him- no stared at him, but no matter how long she stared, all she would see was a smiling bear. If she had been standing in front of him, she would have seen a frowning man, but nothing more. She could not see the settling feeling of accomplishment, the deviant who was grinning at his next thought. Most definitely she could not see the darkness churning in the back of his mind, the memory of the needle and the purple dust. That was hidden carefully, discreetly, and only when he felt like it would she see it, and the day she saw it was the day her sun set forever.

"Come to my mansion," Buddy asked again.

Violet blushed. "I can't. Besides, I already have my answer _and_," she added with emphasis, "I don't want to see you."

"You're a liar." He grew cheeky. "Of course you want to see me."

She gave him an annoyed look. "Buddy, I'm serious. I'm not coming. Anyways, I'm grounded."

"I don't care," was Buddy's curt reply. "Come anyway."

"I _can't _Buddy. I'm _grounded!_"

He frowned. "Irritating parents," he grumbled aloud, making Violet snicker. "But I don't care about that, either. I'm sure you can find a way to get out of the house."

"Getting out is not the hard part," she explained with impatience. "It's the getting caught part that sucks. The power of invisibility balances out with mom's unparallel senses. She knows when I'm about to do something bad before I even do it." Then, she caught herself and regained her composure with a huff. "And all that doesn't matter because I'm not going because I _really _don't want to see you!"

He ignored the last part and was already thinking of whom to send to pick her up. "I'll get you back in time," he said, recalling the face of one of his most efficient drivers. A second later, and he gave a Machiavellian grin. "Well, I'll get you back without being caught."

"No, Buddy!" Violet sighed with exasperation. "Jeez, you just don't seem to get it. There's no way that I…"

He listened with half an ear to the rest of her ramblings. It was amusing that she thought she actually had an opinion in the matter. It was endearing and it reminded him of the feeble kicking of the butterfly's legs, trying so hard to escape when it was already doomed. His decisions were final and were driven with a firm hand. To think that Violet believed she could contradict that made him smile.

"I'll send a limo to come and pick you up," he interrupted with a smile. "I'm sure you can get your brother to cover you. I mean, after all, you've already told him theworstof your… situation."

Violet had been prepared to yell at him again, but then flushed red with embarrassment. "It doesn't matter what I told him," she grumbled irritably, "I'm not going."

Syndrome's eye twitched slightly and his mouth began to twist slightly with displeasure. It was cute the first time, but now it was losing its pleasing qualities. "I'm asking nicely," he said, a hint of warning on the edges of his words. "You know full well that if I wanted to, I would simply come and physically take you away." He smirked. "It's your choice."

Violet paled. "You wouldn't."

"I shall see you in an hour, hog-tied or not," he said pleasantly, and then before she could make another move to argue, he switched off all of the screens and cut off the audio. Then, he left the control room to prepare for her arrival.


	14. Their Estranged Passion

This is a decent sized chapter, so tackle it when you have time. :)

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Their Estranged Passion**

"_This life is filled with hurt when happiness doesn't work. Trust me and take my hand. When the lights go out, you'll understand."_

"_Pain," by Three Days Grace_

* * *

Buddy had been right. She had been given two choices: Come freely or kicking or screaming. Unfortunately for her, she had decided to choose the latter, and now she was currently sitting in the back of a limo, two giant men beside her, her arms bound tightly to her sides and her legs wrapped together with thick rope. She was still struggling to get free by trying to wiggle her arms out, but the men had tied it extremely tight and her limbs were already losing circulation.

"Urgh, dammit!" She kicked out with frustration, accidentally hitting the two unconscious men in front of her. She looked down briefly at their bruised faces, and then kicked them again just for the heck of it.

She hadn't been taken easily, and the proof was all over the living room and the kitchen at her house. It was lucky that Dash had left to go to his friend's house a few minutes before the men came. She wouldn't have wanted him to get in the middle of the battle. She had broken enough furniture and bones and having her brother be there, risking his safety, would have been awful.

Despite the fact that she had nearly trashed the house when battling the men, a few others had stayed behind to fix things up. One of them had been a woman in her mid twenties. She had short, brunette hair, hazel almond eyes, and was rather beautiful. She had stood out like a stain on a white shirt amongst the hulking body guards and Violet had to wonder why in the world she had been with them.

_Who knows? I really don't care at the moment. _She struggled and grunted and tried to flex her hands, but it was growing more and more useless by the second.

"Stop wiggling," demanded the large, bald man on her right.

"Let me go!" was her just as powerful reply.

"You'll be untied once you are inside the Pine residence," said the other man on her left, a man that looked as if he had just come out of jail, which wouldn't surprise her if that was the truth.

She would be let free once she was in his grasp? Not only was that absurd, it was completely stupid and there was no way she was just going to sit there and wait to be passed over to Buddy. She struggled some more, kicked out again, and then let out a groan of frustration. "I don't want to see him!" she growled out as she tried to at least work her hands free. "Do you know that this is illegal? You guys will be sent to jail!"

"Been there, done that," murmured the man on her left, and the bald man chuckled. Then, he grabbed onto Violet's shoulders with his two giant hands and forced her into the seat, pinning her in place. "Stop wiggling," he said again, this time quieter, but with much more danger in his voice.

Violet glared at him, but didn't move any further. "I knew it," she mumbled. The man gave her a look, but she ignored him and instead resigned to sulk, frowning intensely at the men on the floor.

She had tried to call Buddy's bluff, and had lost more than poker chips. She should have known that big, evil head of his would pull off something like this.

A cold feeling crept up her spine. _But maybe it wasn't Buddy. Maybe it was…_

So stupid. She was so _stupid. _She had nearly forgotten just _who _Buddy was, or rather, what Buddy _could _be, and because of that carelessness she was now being taken away to the lion's cave. No amount of mental slaps or punches or curses could ever make her pay for the fact that she had forgotten that Syndrome was _not _dead.

_Buddy and Syndrome, Syndrome and Buddy. I can't forget! _However, they were two separate personalities and she couldn't treat them equally even though they resided in one body. She needed to learn the difference between the two and she needed to do so in record time or else she could pay the ultimate price. It was a daunting task and the more she thought about it, the more unsettled she became.

_Don't think about it. Try and think about how you are going to get out of this._

She tested her bindings and almost cried when they felt like they were getting tighter. Why hadn't she been born with a useful super power, like laser vision, or hands that could turn into scissors? No, she had invisibility and forcefields and _neither _would help her.

_Maybe you might have had more options if you actually kept up with your superpower practice, _said a scalding voice in her head. It spoke the truth, and Violet grew even more moody because of it.

Recently, she had been experimenting with her powers, trying to see what else she could do. She worked with theoretic ideas, trying to weave her way down into the basic working parts and pieces of her powers. That lead to the idea that her powers worked with three major components: The composition of her body, the power of her mind, and the manipulation of light. All her forcefields were was concentrated ultraviolet light manipulated and controlled by her will. Her invisibility worked in the same manner, subtracting all color pigments in her body and bending the light around her in specific amounts, but that was where it got tricky. She could only make herself invisible along with special clothing that Edna made for her. Invisibility, it seemed, was instinctual for her and until she could learn to focus that power on other objects, all she would be able to do was turn, essentially, her own body invisible. Her supersuit and other clothing from Edna were made of special fabric that was similar to her unique body composition, so the premise was the same.

If she could learn to control both of her powers, theoretically she could accomplish much, much more. If she could manipulate and concentrate light in the form of a forcefield, why couldn't she make it into other shapes, throw concentrated light, like a fireball, or even create weapons?

_Like scissors._

And her invisibility, if properly practiced, could be extended to other things around her. People, furniture, and maybe one day an entire building! Even the special composition of her body could result to something if she just focused her time and attention on figuring out how to control her powers.

_But it's so hard! _she whined, puffing her lip out in protest. But she was going to have to learn to progress because one day she would be one of the big-time superheroes and if she couldn't grow, she would eventually find herself stuck in a rut that would be awfully hard to climb out of.

_You've got to do it though because if you don't, you'll end up in far stickier situations than the one you're in right now._

Violet frowned, and then reluctantly shrugged. Yeah, there was that.

The limousine began to slow down. She straightened and peered out the window. Beyond the glass she could see the familiar gates to Buddy's mansion. They drove on through, and her heart fell just as fast as the gates closed, coming together and locking, sealing her doom. She slowly leaned back into her seat, trying to control the rolling sickness in her stomach. A minute passed and she had to close her eyes because she felt as if she was going to vomit.

Apparently she did look pretty sick because the men scooted away from her and gave their unconscious friends pitying looks.

"Better hurry before they're covered," commented the bald man with no lacking amount of seriousness, and then called out to the driver to pick up the pace.

_No, don't pick up the pace. _She really, really, _really _didn't want to see Buddy, not after today. She may have been able to sort through her emotions, at least some of them, but that didn't mean she wanted to confront him about it. For one, she had no idea what she was going to say. Two, she didn't know what she _should _say, and three, she didn't want to see him because she didn't know who he was!

This last part went different ways. She didn't know if he was friend or foe, Buddy or Syndrome, or her… her boyfriend or something, she didn't know!None of it sounded right and it was all random puzzle pieces in her head and she sucked at puzzles and why should she have to put one together, especially since _his _fat head was the stupid picture!

_I don't want to put together a stupid, ugly, fat head puzzle because I suck at puzzles, I don't like them, and I really don't like anything right now!_

And then her brain got sidetracked, recalled her comment about him being her boyfriend, and then twisted her face in disgust because she didn't like that idea much at all. At least, she didn't like _that word _being coupled with _his face _because it made _no sense. _It was like trying to imagine her father giving bi-

_NO! Don't think that!! _She shuddered. _No, never think that again. Bad Violet!_

Even though the mental image of her father was forcefully pushed away, she still did not accept she and Buddy had a relationship when it was so very obvious that they did, even though the aspects of said relationship were very much shrouded in darkness and unseen to almost all eyes.

The limo finally rolled to a stop, and the moment it did, Violet's adrenaline rushed through her body like magic elixir. So, just as the bald man reached for her, she lashed out and began to thrash about like an enraged snake, spiting and biting her fury. She even got a hold of the man's arm with her mouth, sinking her teeth into him, causing him to cry out with pain. He hissed and grabbed onto his arm, quickly becoming furious. He loomed over her, preparing to rip her to shreds, but her feet swung out first and kicked him square in the groin. Fury switched to surprise and then agony as he fell over with a groan, almost on the verge of whimpers.

"Vince!" The man had been pinned back by Violet's violence, but now was coming forward and struggling to pin Violet down on her back. "Stupid girl, you better stop moving before I knock you good and hard!"

She struggled, arching. "Get… off!" Her legs came up and she kicked him right in the face, his nose breaking and blood flying. Then, she threw herself forward and tumbled, struggling to get onto her knees.

"Now I've just gotta-"

The car door opened, and the limousine driver jumped at the sight within the back seat, but that was the only response he could get out. Violet jumped at him, sending them both crashing to the ground. She rolled off of him and down the road, and as she did so, she worked her feet free from her shoes, which allowed her to slip out of her feet bindings. Putting weight on her side, she let the rope around her arms slow her down as it rubbed against the pavement, and then she got up to her feet and began to run.

"Whoops!"

A familiar humming sound, and she could not move. Nothing could move, nothing except her eyes. She remembered this feeling of being utterly frozen, and as she began to hover back towards the limousine, she knew what face she would see.

"Wowee, Violet," said Buddy with an entertained grin, "look what you did all by yourself!"

He was dressed in casual attire; a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. He would have almost looked normal if it wasn't for the white armlet he wore, which was now emitting a beam of blue zero-point energy at her, stopping her literally in her tracks. He was smiling at her, and even though his goons were unconscious and bleeding and crying, and a tooth could be seen just behind his shoe, there wasn't an ounce of anger on his face. In fact, he was oozing happiness and enjoyment.

It infuriated her.

"I never knew what kind of spitfire you had, Violet. Just when I think I've seen it all, petite little Miss Parr renders four of my best body guards unconscious and/or incapacitated and my driver in need of a new tooth." He grinned. "And on top of all _that_, she's bound head to toe!" He laughed, slapping his knee, making Violet even angrier. "_Man! _You are just too _funny!_" He sighed with content and wiped a tear out of his eye. "Wow, you really are something, you know that?" He gave her a look, and that look made her anger spin around and twist into embarrassment, but there was no way he could see that because her face was still frozen into an expression of terror, which was really odd considering just how flustered she felt at that moment.

"Come on," he said, his voice still laced with laughter, "let's go inside, shall we?"

It had been her hope that he would turn off the zero-point energy, but that hope was soundly quashed. He still kept her suspended and led her through the doors of his home, humming a bubbly tune to himself. This made the atmosphere rather comical, but in a disturbing way because all emotions were opposite, and expressions were false, and seriousness was treated with a grin and a happy-go-lucky attitude and it was making Violet really confused and unsettled.

The doors shut behind them on their own, and then, to her horror, the sound of a locking mechanism clicked through the air. The moment the final tumbler made its way into its spot, he let her go, dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Welcome back," he said with a smirk.

"Not really," was her bitter reply.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twisting upwards. "I gave you options, Violet. This was your own choice."

"No, _my _choice was to not come at all," she corrected firmly, "but of course I don't get a say in anything, do I?"

"Of course you do!" exclaimed Buddy. He walked over to her, making her flinch away, but all he did was lean down and begin to untie her arms.

"I do have a choice?" she said with disbelief. She gave him a skeptic glare. "I'm sorry, but I have not been given any proof that would prove this."

Buddy chuckled. "Okay," he said, tugging at a tight knot, "let me correct myself, then. You have a choice." The rope fell away and he stood up, smirking. "You just don't have a choice in _this _particular matter."

Violet shook the ropes off of her body and massaged her aching arms. She looked up at Buddy with a sense of trepidation, all of her fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. She began to stand up and as she straightened, she refused to look away from him. She swore that the moment she did, something else bad would happen.

Hesitantly, she did flick her gaze around her surroundings, assessing the situation. When she saw no exits, no form of help or hope anywhere, she began to panic. Her whole body tensed as the feeling of entrapment crept further and further into her brain, and it only worsened when she realized just whom she was entrapped with.

"Let me out," she demanded shakily.

Buddy rolled his eyes at her and made a noise of displeasure in his throat. "Don't tell me we're going to go through this again," he groused. "Don't you think once is enough for one day?"

She was confused for a moment, and then she realized that they had already had a similar conversation inside of the chemistry room, and the end of that particular conversation hadn't ended… as expected.

Violet's mouth, on its own accord, snapped shut.

"Good girl."

"I'm not a pet," she snapped. "I will not be addressed like one!"

He chuckled at her and took two steps forward. Violet skittered six steps backwards and took shelter behind a couch. Anything between them was relief, even though it wasn't the best of solutions.

Buddy stopped. "Are we going to have to play a little game of cat and mouse?" he asked with an unsettling grin.

"Depends what your next move is," replied Violet, tensing.

A long pause dragged through the air. It was thick and heavy, but charged with energy. It hovered like a starting flag, and as it grew more and more taut, the energy began to dance like crazy, almost like the sparkling fuse of a firework. A few more moments, the flame dancing closer to the gunpowder, and the tension cracked, the energy exploded-

_You aren't Buddy-!_

She gasped at the sudden darkness that had rushed into his normally sharp, blue eyes. He aimed a beam of zero-point energy at her, but she ducked quickly out of the way. She rolled to her feet and sprang up, rushing forward and into the kitchen. She could hear laughter behind her, which only made her adrenaline rush faster. She picked a corner in the spot of the kitchen a safe distance away, and then her thoughts fell into themselves. She had to plan, had to defend, and if necessary, attack, but she would also have to cope with the fact she was no longer with anyone that could help her.

_He's gone. He's gone and Syndrome's here and now that he's here he's going to kill me and I'll be dead and I'll never see him again…_

She was such a foolish girl.

_I must run or fight. Maybe both. _She looked down at her clothing, and her heart fell into her stomach. She had changed out of her school clothes when she had gotten home into more comfortable attire. Unfortunately, not a single stitch belonged to Edna.

_Dammit. No matter how hard I try to explain myself, the story will always be I ran naked through Buddy Pine's house._

There was no time to complain. Syndrome was coming for her, and she had to escape before he captured her and locked her up forever. So, when the kitchen doors banged open, she slipped her socks off. Her hands were at the edge of her shirt just before he turned around and faced her, smirking.

"Violet," he said, taking a step forward. "You've got nowhere to hide."

"Maybe," she breathed, and then she pulled off her shirt and flung it to the side. She faced him, her whole body tense.

Through the mess of her hair, she saw an extremely stunned Syndrome. His eyes were wide and his jaw was slightly slack. It looked as if his brain had shut down completely, which was so strange to see on the face of a mad genius. She took the opportunity to slide the elastic band of her sweatpants down her hips, the fabric falling and collecting around her feet.

_Let me have my shame later. _

Syndrome took in a sharp breath, his body visibly rigid. He took a stumbling step towards her, his hand slightly outstretched and reaching towards her. His eyes flickered across her body, caressing her, staring at, in, and beyond her. The intensity of his eyes made her shiver and she had to clench her fists to control herself.

_Why must you have his eyes? Damn you._

His eyes came up and locked with hers. Violet shuddered when she saw the dark hunger in his gaze, but it brought her no warmth. This was Syndrome, and she did not like Syndrome's eyes-

_Buddy?_

"Violet," he rasped, "you-"

_Buddy is gone._

"Cat and mouse, Syndrome," she whispered.

He flinched, startled, and then a knowing smirk fell over his mouth. He chuckled a little, and then he pinned a _powerful _look onto her, his eyes narrowing and his smirk growing bigger, stronger, deadlier.

"I was right to pursue you. You are so _interesting."_

"Make your move."

"After you."

Violet's foot slid back a brief fraction, eyes narrowing. "I'm not going to hold back, _Syndrome._"

He smiled at her. "I wouldn't expect you to, _Invisigirl._"

_Yes. Invisigirl. _

Her mind cradled the idea, tended to it lovingly, and then forged it into armor of diamonds and wrapped it around her tender heart. Violet fell away, and Invisigirl faced Syndrome with conviction.

Good to evil. Purple to blue. They stared each other down, and each second of the standoff, Violet's heart ached a little more.

_This is hopeless._

"Invisigirl…"

_Why must you be so…_

"Move."

_And yet I still care for you, you bastard._

A beam of energy exploded to the right of her, cuing her to move. She spun around and ran, unclipping the back of her bra as her feet slapped against the tiled floor. It fell to the floor, fluttering away. Then, she prepared to slide off her underwear, but before they went to the floor, she became completely invisible. The moment she disappeared, a bolt of blue energy shot towards her, but she dodged and it instead hit a pot hanging on a rack, sending it flying. Adrenaline rushing, she ran like a gazelle, hitting the exiting doors and zooming out of them just as another beam of energy zapped behind her.

"I'll catch you, Invisigirl!" declared Syndrome, his voice echoing behind her. "I'll catch you, and once I have you, you'll never want to leave again!"

As she tried to find an exit, a small part of her was completely mortified. She was running around in her birthday suit like a crazed maniac. Who cared if no one could see her? She could certainly feel the freedom of no clothing and it wasn't exactly comfortable.

_Don't let him catch you. Don't let him touch you. You will never be his._

Bolts of zero-point energy exploded all around her. She turned around and ducked out of the way just as Syndrome aimed another one at her.

"I know you're here, Invisigirl!" he yelled, eyes darting around. "I can feel you, sense you." He smirked. "And I can most certainly smell your lovely vanilla scent."

Invisigirl remained as still as a statue, stilling her breath completely. Silence fell upon them as Syndrome listened with a sensitive ear to his surroundings. He stood there, motionless, simply listening. Seconds turned to minutes, and they began to build up upon Invisigirl's back like heavy stones. She could not hold her breath for much longer, her legs were burning because of her crouched position, and if she didn't do anything soon, he'd sense her and she'd be dead.

_He's not your lover, Invisigirl. Do not take pity._

She flexed her arms, curled her toes, clenched her fist, and took a sharp breath.

Syndrome's head snapped towards her. "I've got you, Invisigirl!"

She lunged with a grunt, arm stretched out before her, and then she punched him square in the jaw. He reeled back, his aim thrown completely off and shattering a nearby light. As glass littered around them, Invisigirl was already up on her feet and scrambling away, darting away and out another door.

_Too close, don't do that again, had to do it, but never again, just run, stay safe, don't think, do not feel…_

She ran down an unexplored part of the mansion. There was nothing special about it, just a nondescript hallway with the occasional painting. She saw no one, and the more she wandered, the more she wondered where the hell everyone was. The entire mansion couldn't be empty all the time, or maybe it was only empty when Syndrome was out and having his fun.

She weaved through different halls, opened and went through random doors, trying to confuse her path so that Syndrome would get confused if he was following her. This plan quickly turned around and smacked her in the face when she realized she herself was terribly lost. Her terror faded slightly as she tried to figure out where in the world she was. There were no landmarks, no signs of anything, and the more she tried to find her way around things, the more confused she became. Eventually she was wandering around, scratching her head, the sense of danger a small ember compared to her bafflement.

"Now, I could have sworn that I've passed this vase before…"

She stopped. There was something in the air. Familiar, crisp, and she sniffed it, once, twice-

"Yes!" It was the smell of nature and flowers and the chilled scent of the dying day. She hoped that there was a door nearby that led outside.

Following her instincts, she ran down the hallway and rounded the second corner she came across. Things began to look a little familiar and she smiled. She paused at an intersection and hesitated, not remembering if she had taken the left hall or the right hall last time. She closed her eyes, and then she went left, praying that she was right.

_Please let me be right. Please let me be free._

She stumbled slightly, her heart swelling. At the end of the hallway there was a magnificent glass door and beyond that was a garden. Relief spread through her and she smiled. Her legs urged her onwards and she sprinted towards the exit.

Danger, warning, instincts kicking in- _Move quickly, now!-_ and just after she erected a forcefield around her, bullets rained down upon her from guns that had suddenly appeared from behind hidden panels in the walls around her. The noise was deafening, even from behind her shield. She strained to keep herself from screaming so that the horrible sound would cease.

The guns stopped firing after a moment, and then a familiar voice echoed above her.

"What an interesting predicament you've gotten yourself into, Invisigirl," said Syndrome, clearly entertained.

"Where are you?" she demanded, looking around. She was not nearly as happy as he.

He chuckled. "Well, after your little _stunt, _I knew it was going to be nearly impossible to try and locate you… at least, not with my _naked _eye." He laughed at his joke and she wrinkled her nose with distaste. "I am currently sitting inside a control room," he explained. "It feeds me live footage from dozens of cameras inside of my mansion. I can also see you, my little invisible mouse. Why you may ask? Well-"

"Thermographic cameras," she answered with a sense of annoyance. "Yes, good for you." She frowned and let out a small sound of anger. "Dammit. All of that for nothing."

_Thank goodness. No more fighting…_

"It looks like I've won this round," stated Syndrome, his words filled with pride. The guns around her moved slightly closer to her. "You prepared to negotiate?"

"No."

The guns clicked and she could hear a low humming come from them. She peered up the barrel of one, and inside she could see a slowly growing light.

"Plasma rays. You may be able to take a couple shots from these, but not for long. Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you prepared to negotiate?"

She wanted to say no again, and her mouth was already opening to say so, but she knew, as much as she disliked it, she had lost. Again. To Syndrome. _Again. _And she couldn't help but wonder when she would ever win against him.

_Dammit!_

"_Fine,_" she spat with loathing, "I'll negotiate."

The guns did not move. "Condition number one: You are not to use your powers again in my house without my permission."

She held back her anger. "Fine."

"Condition number two: You are to come to my house whenever I ask you to."

"Fine."

"And you stay as long as I want you to stay."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "…Fine."

A pause, and she could tell he was thinking of someting else. "I could ask for a lot more, but that would make things… boring." He chuckled. "Oh, I do have one last idea."

The guns went back into their places behind the walls and she finally let her shield down. She remained invisible though, for her own comfort. She was scowling up at the ceiling where his laughter was still echoing.

"You're going to have to come and get your clothes from me," he said with a devious tone, causing her whole face to flush with embarrassment and anger. "I'll be waiting for you in the main hall."

She heard the speakers cut off, and the moment they did, she let out a giant sigh. The battle was over, and though she had lost, there was nothing else to run from. Her job was done, so she safely let the protective identity Invisigirl fall away from her.

"Should have known something like this would have happened," grumbled Violet, blushing. Even though Syndrome's words embarrassed Violet beyond comprehension, she noted the playfulness in his voice, his mischievous attitude, and the teasing banter. That was not Syndrome. His humor was more sadistic and dark. This was silly and there was no evil behind his words. Was Buddy in charge now?

It was just like her life as Violet Parr and as Invisigirl, two personalities she had and used. Both had a purpose, Invisigirl to protect both the people and herself, and Violet to balance out the chaos of a super's life. She was one person, but lived two different lives. It worked the same way with him. His change in attitude marked the times when he was either Buddy, the egotistical tease, or Syndrome, the cunning devil. Sometimes she felt that he was a combination of the two, but that wasn't too dangerous. Even she had her dark moments. It was only truly dangerous when his feelings and attitude from his days as Syndrome made up his personality completely. Back inside of the main hall and in the kitchen, _that _had been Syndrome. She could recognize that maniacal gleam in his eyes any day.

_This is so difficult. _

Even though it was Buddy and not Syndrome, that did not change the fact that she was butt naked and she was going to have to go to Buddy and beg for her clothing. That knowledge made her stomach churn horribly. She _didn't want _to see him but no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't be able to get that through his thick head.

_Doesn't he know I'm trying to figure things out? One minute I hate him, then I don't, and then I'm suddenly exchanging blows with him. What is this? What are we? What am I doing with him? _

Depression hit her like a ton of bricks and she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking. What _was _she doing_? _Here she was, standing naked in the middle of a hallway, preparing to get her clothes from a man that, not more than two weeks ago, she had hated more than anyone in her entire life. Now, she couldn't imagine another day without seeing him. He had snuck past her defenses and burrowed himself deep into the pits of her mind. She couldn't think of anything without his name coming up at least once.

_Especially since today in the chemistry room. That was…_

Her lips became hot and she licked them. She could taste him there, and the apex between her legs tingled. Today he had shown her just how pleasurable life could be, how pleasurable _he _could be. His hands had been so firm, his kisses hot, and the whole world spun around them when they came together. She had very little experience with things like that, and the only other time had been-

_NO._

Barriers rose up all around her mind and as she tried to access her previous thought, she found… nothing. In fact, she couldn't remember anything about what she was thinking about. It was as if something had skipped and time had jumped and she was now standing in a place with no memory. She glanced around, confused.

_What was that? Was I going to say something…? _She shook her head. _I don't know._

Chilly air brushed against her skin and she shivered. "I need my clothes," she murmured, and reluctantly she made her way towards the main hall, making sure to remain completely invisible. She hoped that Buddy wouldn't find it too humorous to make her do tricks for her things back. She also hoped that things wouldn't get... out of hand.

Unconsciously, she licked her bottom lip, but continued on.

_Do I take this door, or…? _She peered through the door and saw the hallway where she had punched Syndrome. She grinned at the memory.

_Served him right. Okay, here's the kitchen, so behind this door is… _She froze. She didn't want to see him. It was too dangerous.

_But I have to, dammit. I have to._

Everything told her to run away, but she couldn't. She pressed forward, forcing herself through the doorway, down the small hall, and then she stumbled into main hall.

"Buddy," she said with a breath, "I-!"

She blinked. He wasn't there. There was, however, a woman. It was the woman that had been at her house, and she was holding her folded clothes.

"Hello, Violet," she greeted with a smile. Her eyes squinted slightly and she peered forward. "You _are _here, aren't you?"

"Y-yes," replied Violet, confused. She looked around, but Buddy was nowhere to be seen. "Where's-"

"Here are your clothes," said the woman, offering them out before placing them on a nearby couch. "You can change in here if you want. There's no one to see. Mr. Pine will see you for dinner in half an hour."

The woman left without another word, leaving Violet standing all by herself, gaping at the empty spot she had once occupied. She stared, blinked, stared some more, and then became extremely confused.

"What? _Dinner?_" She glanced around, waiting for the fabric of space and time to begin to split and tear. "There's no way he would be treating me to dinner!" When she received no response, agreeable or otherwise, she grew flustered and angry. She stomped her foot, yelling into the air. "No! I just fought him and nearly died in the process. Eating dinner with him would be… would be…!" She struggled and stared down at her twitching hands. "It would be against all my morals and the written and/or unspoken code between hero and nemesis!!"

Again, no one heard her and she had a feeling that no matter how long or loud she yelled and no matter how persuasive she could be, no one would even care. She was stuck doing a crazy thing in a scary place with a dangerous man whom she happened to have a crush on.

"God… _dammit!!_" She stormed over to the couch, snatched up her bra, and hooked around her with a snap. "I hate this!" She pulled up her underwear high over her hips and then shoved her feet into the legs of her pants, cursing under her breath. "This is so freaking stupid. Dammit, I hate this so much!" She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head with sharp, angry tugs, not giving a damn about tangling her hair. "Damn him. Damn me!"

She paused, and then looked up slowly towards the ceiling, past that, and at the heavens. "No." She pointed to the sky. "This is _your _fault for making stupid teenagers with stupid hormones. Oh, and Buddy is probably one of your _worst _pieces of art yet! What is he, a mistake? Was he a spit stain that you threw down here just to get rid of it?" She snorted. "I guess I wouldn't blame you for wanting him out of your sight."

She fumed a little bit more, and then picked up her socks. She looked them over and then slid them back onto her feet. Once she was completely dressed, she allowed herself a loud sigh of relief and then began to relax. After a little over a half an hour of running around naked and invisible, she finally let herself fade back into existence.

She glowered down at her feet and wiggled her toes. It reminded her that her shoes were somewhere outside; at least that was where she left them last. She didn't know if that woman had picked them up or not.

_If she did, then why the hell did she not leave them with me? That's just plain stupid _and _rude._

Violet had a good feeling that the woman did have her shoes and she also knew that the woman was keeping them from her on purpose. It didn't take her long to deduce that keeping her shoes from her would help keep her at the mansion. It was an okay idea, but Violet knew if anything went overboard or became dangerous, she would walk over burning glass to get out.

_Other than that, it's fine. I'll give you a point. _She sat down on the couch, thinking quietly to herself._ So, I'm to have dinner with Mr. Buddy Pine, huh? I suppose I should be a little relieved. At least this resembles the mechanics of a real relationship a tiny bit. _She frowned. _Still, I know he had wanted to see me get my clothes from him. Why would he want to give that up?_

If it had been any other guy, she would have thought that perhaps Buddy had felt bad, but that was complete nonsense, so she continued to ponder different ideas.

She was so deep in thought, she did not hear an older man enter from the kitchen. He watched her for a moment, smiled briefly, and then cleared his throat.

"Miss Violet Parr?"

She jumped and turned around. "Er- yes?"

The man bowed. "Dinner is served."

"O-oh." She stood up and looked around to see if she saw Buddy. "Um, where is…?"

"Mr. Pine is waiting for you in the dining hall," answered the man. "Come now, we can't keep him waiting." He gestured for her to follow, which she did with a little bit of hesitation. The man looked nice, wise, had a pleasant French accent, and was much friendlier than another man she knew. She wondered why he would work for a crazy guy like Buddy.

"May I ask you your name? It only seems fair since you know mine."

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He bowed again. "Geoffry LaFontaine. I am the head and only chef here."

She blinked. "Only chef? Why only you?"

Geoffry gave her a surprised look, and then glanced around secretly before leaning over to her. "He is rather picky," he whispered. "He apparently only likes my cooking. I suppose it's a relief on my part. It guarantees me my job."

Violet looked at him, baffled. "Are you serious?"

"Deathly serious."

"Wow." She looked down towards the kitchen doors, knowing he sat somewhere beyond them. "I never knew."

"Not many people do, so if you could, please keep that secret to yourself, eh?" He chuckled to himself again. "Alright, no more lollygagging. We've got to get to the dining area before I lose my paycheck for this week."

Violet followed the man, but did so without thinking much of it. Instead, she kept playing with the knowledge of Buddy's pickiness. It was absurd to think that something so silly and childish and _normal _could be a part of him. What's more, _she _held that intimate knowledge for herself, a secret that apparently few people knew about. Was this the first step towards a friendly relationship between them? Watching other couples, for instance her mom and dad, she knew that a couple couldn't live comfortably until they trusted each other. That trust led to a relaxed atmosphere, and when that was in place, they could exist in harmony.

_Only problem is that Buddy wasn't the one who told me this, Geoffry did… But Buddy did tell me once about Mirage. Does that count for something?_

Technically, it had happened before anything dramatic had occurred between them, but still. The information had been shared freely. Did Buddy trust her? Could she trust _him? _

She felt her heart grow cold. She wanted to trust him, but with Syndrome lingering around, she doubted she ever could.

_And that means no trust, which means…_

A part of her saddened at this, but she knew it was for the best. In fact, if there had been any sign that something could happen to make her change her ideas of him, any movement that could lead to an affection stronger than friendship or a crush, she would have immediately fled.

She could like him. She could be his friend. She certainly wouldn't deny any of the pleasure she had experienced with him hours before. But…

_I will never love him. Never._

People could call it friends with benefits. She called it survival of her sanity and sense of self. She was already dancing across hot, poisonous ground. If she dared to jump towards the center of the chaos, she knew she would slip and tumble into the fire, consumed in her entirety.

_Violet, you foolish girl. What a mess you've gotten yourself into._

Geoffry suddenly stopped and she almost smacked her nose into his back, but she stopped before it could happen. He turned and stepped to the side of a pair of double doors. He grabbed onto the handle, but before he opened the door, he asked, "Are you ready?"

She looked up at him, slightly startled by the question. She never would have thought he would have asked something like that, but it was comforting. Perhaps there were others out there that would support her.

She took a deep breath. "Yeah."

He nodded and then opened the door for her, gesturing for her to go inside. She hesitated in the doorway, but after another encouraging word from him, she made her way into the dining area. Once she was inside, her fear left her like the tide rushing out and back into the sea.

"Oh _my…_"

The dining room was positively _beautiful. _Deep reds and magnificent golds made up the color scheme. The tables and chairs were rich mahogany wood, and on top of the table was mouth-watering food. Prime rib, vegetables, steaming hot rolls, all of it lit beautifully by candlelight. A crystal chandelier hung above, but it was dimmed. Its beauty, however, was not at all diminished. Firelight flickered off the crystal like fireflies. Everything was delicious and beautiful and wonderful and not at _all _dangerous. Not even Buddy looked dangerous. In fact…

"…Buddy?" Violet stared at him. "Buddy, you're…"

Buddy looked down at his clothing. He had swapped his shirt and jeans for a nice pair of black dress pants and a matching black dress shirt. "I didn't want to host a dinner of this quality looking like I had just come back from the supermarket," said Buddy. He glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Violet jumped. "Huh? N-no, there's no problem, just…" Her brain tried to sort through everything, but each time she stacked everything up, it tumbled down around her. Eventually, she was so confused and unsettled that not even the tantalizing scent of food could shake her out of her thoughts.

"Violet?" Buddy stood up from his chair and went to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. "Violet, are you-"

"Why?" whispered Violet, looking up at him with large, pleading eyes. "Why this… this change? This strange animosity between us? It makes no sense! People like us…" She gestured between them. "People who have experienced what we have experienced together _don't _fight each other and try to kill each other." She pointed frustratingly at the dinner table. "And they definitely don't have a romantic candlelit dinner afterwards!" She grabbed onto his arms and shook him, growing frantic. "Buddy, you can't keep doing this to me! I can't take it! I know that you are more complicated than any enigma, and I accept that, but you can't flip flop on me like this, without any warning!" She grew angry at him and poked him in the chest, wanting to punch him again. "I'm not stupid. I know the kind of guy you can be, but if you're going to try and kill me again, do it without pulling _this _stunt again!"

Buddy gave her a mild look. "You don't want me to be nice?"

"_That's not what I said!" _She gave him a fierce look. "What I don't want is for you to try and be Buddy right after Syndrome tried to fucking _kill me!_ That's like spitting on me and my feelings for you." Her voice wobbled slightly, and her eyes began to shimmer. "When you're Syndrome, I have no choice but to be Invisigirl, and when I'm Invisigirl, I… I won't hold back!" She let out a small sob. "Dammit, Buddy, this bullcrap you've forced upon me these past two weeks have been difficult enough to deal with. Don't make me regret my feelings."

The room fell into silence. Violet sniffled slightly and she had to wipe her eyes, but she didn't waver. She waited for Buddy and his stupid, fat, handsome head to say something else that would probably make her even angrier. Men typically did that. They always had to find a magical set of words that would set off women like a brilliant firework, and no matter how many burns they received, they still had to have the balls to try again.

_Come on! What do you have to say, Buddy? Huh? Any other smartass comments? Come on, bring it! I dare you! I'll tear you apart, verbally, physically, mentally, and all other ways that I bet would just absolutely hurt-!_

She froze, and her eyes widened as she suddenly found herself being wrapped up in his arms. She stared up at him and opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a kiss. The touch of his lips upon hers melted away her anger, and she relaxed into him, her eyes closing.

_Mmmm, kisses. I love his kisses. So warm, so tasty. Mmmm, yes, I could definitely have more of these…_

After a moment, he pulled back. His eyes stared into hers with a hidden look, and she paused for him to say something. Patiently she waited while he searched her eyes, looked into her thoughts which she knew she could barely hide. Finally, after another long moment, he spoke.

"Let's have dinner," was all he said.

She blinked at him, and then puffed up and slapped on the shoulder, scowling. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I figured my kiss would have been a good enough answer," he said with a shrug.

She gaped at him, and then slapped him again, harder this time, causing him to make a noise of protest. "This isn't some sort of lovey-dovey, magical story of romance and lust, you dunce! I want a verbal reply from you!"

"Dunce?" He looked away with a pondering expression. "Have I been called that before? I don't think so."

"ARGH!" She beat her fists on his chest over and over, screaming through her teeth. "God dammit, you are so _frustrating!!_"

"You mean endearing."

"_No I do not mean endearing!_" she spat out angrily. "Obviously you're dodging the topic, which means you disagree with me, which means we're going to have a _whole _bunch of issues in the future, which means _I _am not going to stick around for them, which-"

"Now wait a minute," he said, "I never said I disagreed with you."

"Then tell me what you think, then!"

Buddy looked at her with no particular emotion, and then shrugged. "I don't know."

Her eyebrows came down in a flat look of irritation. "You don't know."

"Precisely."

"How can you not know!"

"I don't hold all of the answers," replied Buddy, giving her a reprimanding look. "Don't automatically assume that I do."

Her anger stumbled and she grew huffy as she tried to recover her words. "So, you're telling me you _conveniently _don't have a reply for something that could possibly one of the most important things about our relationship that could ever be _ever?" _She arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

Again, that lackadaisical look of his. "I suppose," he said with a shrug.

Her face scrunched up as she took in a sharp breath of irritation before she let it out as a scream, pounding her head against his chest. "You're so _irritating!!_"

"You mean endearing."

She froze, slowly looked up, and looked as if she was going to destroy him on the spot. She wanted to. She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and strangle him until he turned blue. But she didn't because another idea sprang up like a little deviant. Her anger smoothed out, and gave him a venomous smile.

"Yeah," she said slowly, reaching towards the dining room table. "Endearing. You know what would make you even more attractive?"

He smirked. "My face covered in kisses?"

"Close," she shrugged with a smile, "but no."

Before he could blink, she snatched up a bowl of gravy and, drawing her arm back with a grin, thrust it forward and shoved his face right into it, splashing everywhere.

"Mmpht-!"

He stumbled back, sputtering and spitting gravy all over the red carpet. She stood back and puffed out her chest in a heroic manner, much like her dad, and held onto the bowl like the Key to the City. She watched Buddy drag his hand across his eyes and flicking it to the ground with a growl. He faced her with a dangerous look, gravy dribbling down and all over his nice, most likely expensive, black shirt, and she matched his look, smirking.

"Looks good on you," she commented. She pointed towards his face. "It really brings out the color of your eyes."

"Oh really?" He also reached for the table and she watched him carefully and cautiously. His hand disappeared behind the prime rib and she couldn't see what he was grabbing. "Well, thank you." He grinned at her, eyebrows dancing mischievously. "You know, I'm going to have to repay you for your kindness."

He moved, dishes clacked together, and she spun around and turned to flee, but he easily caught up to her and grabbed onto her. He pinned her back up against his chest, and before she could even scream, his hand came around and smacked an entire key lime pie right into her face with a satisfying _splat_. Whipped cream and filling flew everywhere, sticking in her hair and dirtying her shirt and covering her face entirely.

…_I will _kill _him._

Buddy slowly pulled the tin away and stepped away, his mouth twisting closed as he forced down his laughter. Violet turned around and faced him, and then both of her hands came up and scrapped away two spots for her eyes. From within the green and white mess, two identical purple spots of burning fury bore right into Buddy's brown, dripping, handsome face of barely contained laughter.

"_You," _she ground out, her mouth appearing to just be a black hole, "are going to _pay _for that."

Buddy chuckled and strode over to her, looking down at her over the bride of his nose. "How are you going to do that? If you could, please do not let it be in the form of more food. I happen to be very hungry. In fact…" He licked his lips and pulled Violet towards him. He gave her a naughty look.

"You know, I happen to love key lime pie."

Violet gaped at him and then shoved his face away from her, huffing. "If you think you're going to get a kiss from me right after you shoved an _entire pie _into my face, you've got another thing coming!" A pause, and then she turned on him, pointing at him angrily. "Which reminds me! You _still _have not given me a proper reply! I know you have an answer in that fat head of yours, Buddy Pine, and I want to know what it is!"

He sighed. "Violet, I don't have an answer for you."

"Yes you do!"

"_No, _I don't, and no matter how much you keep insisting I do, it's not going to change anything."

"Then… then what are we supposed to do? What am _I _supposed to do?" She gestured to herself. "I won't do it, Buddy! I can't!"

He looked over at her, analyzed her, and then let out another sigh. "The only answer I can give you is this." He came back up to her again and rested his hands on both of her shoulders. He looked into her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never see beyond the blue.

"No matter what happens," he said with a murmur, "things will end how they're supposed to."

Violet sighed at him. "Is that it?"

He shrugged. "There's more to it, but I can't put it into words."

"Try."

He gave her a look and then rolled his eyes. "Alright. Hmm..." He looked away briefly, concentrating and scratching his chin in thought. "Ah, how about this?" He gave her a serious look. "You worry that you will regret your feelings towards me. I will tell you and _promise you _that I will _never _make a move that would make you regret having me."

Violet's eyes widened fractionally and she came closer to him. "You would promise something like that?" she asked with the softest of breaths.

"Of course."

"But… But that's-!"

"Impossible?" He chuckled. "No, it's not." He reached towards the dining room table and picked up a napkin. Then, he proceeded to clean her face, taking delicate care not to get any food into her eyes or her nose. She watched the passes of his hand as if in a dream, stunned silent by the tender motion.

As the napkin crossed over her lips, she moved to speak. "Buddy, I…"

He smiled at her and then quickly wiped his own face, not taking nearly as much care as he had done with her. "Does my answer satisfy you?"

Violet stared up at him, looking at him as if she had never seen him before. She had seen anger. She had seen insanity. She had seen passion. But she had never seen such a friendly look in his eyes before, and it was so amazing and foreign and absolutely beautiful she couldn't do anything but take his face into her hands and kiss him.

"Yes," she said softly, pulling away, "it satisfies me."

It was his turn to be startled, but his face smoothed out and he smiled at her. "Good." He reached for her hair and pulled out a chunk of pie crust from it. "Shall we wash up? It may just be me, but I'm not overly fond of wandering around covered in food."

She giggled and took his arm. "Yes, if you could lead me to the bathroom, I would absolutely love a quick shower."

"Shower?"

"Of course! You don't expect me to wash this giant mass of hair inside a sink!" She gave him a reprimanding look. "Really, Buddy, use your common sense."

"Yes, yes." He pulled out a palm pilot from the pocket of his pants and looked at it. "Sorry, Violet," he said, putting it back into his pocket, "you don't have time for a shower here. You have to get back to your house."

Violet's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed a rush before she sped out of the dining room and out of the kitchen before she skidded to a halt in the main hall. Her heart plummeted when she saw twilight shine through the windows. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I completely forgot!" She spun around and faced Buddy who had followed her. "Buddy, oh my gosh, I'm going to be in so much trouble!"

"No, you aren't," he said easily, striding up to her as if nothing had occurred. "Your parents think you're babysitting for my secretary, Miss Patterson."

"Huh?" She searched her memory. "The woman who gave me my clothes?"

"Most likely. She's going to give you a ride home." Buddy looked down at her, smiled, and then pulled another piece of pie out of her hair. "I'm sure you can come up with a story to explain the mess."

"Yeah," she said. She glanced back towards the kitchens and then gave Buddy an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for ruining dinner. It's just that… well, we had just fought and-"

"Don't talk about it," said Buddy quickly, cutting her off. "We both know what happened. There's no need to discuss it."

Normally, most girls would try and attempt to talk to their men about the no-no's of murder, but life as a super granted her a little more control over situations relating to life-threatening dangers. They both knew who they were and what roles they played and how they should and should not act.

Also, most couples fought. This was a fact of life. Buddy and Violet were not any different in this way. What was different was that she was a superhero, and he was a supervillain. Their fights were bound to be much more exciting.

_But still._

"Don't do something like that again, Buddy."

"But it was so fun!"

"It was _not fun, _and don't think it was."

Buddy looked away. "Old habits die hard, and I admit, I wanted to see if you've gotten any better." He glanced at her sidelong. "You should be proud of your progress."

Violet blushed a little, but retained her anger. "You're so irritating."

"Don't you mean endear-"

"We are _not _starting that again!"

"I didn't start it, you did."

"I did not!"

"But you _did._" He came up to her, grinning. "See? Fun!"

She glared at him. "I hate you," she grumbled, but all she got was a laugh from him.

"Yeah, I bet you do."

She didn't hate him, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hate him. He was too smart, too handsome, too strong. He was a force that she couldn't help but be attracted to, despite the darkness lingering in his soul. In fact, that darkness probably contributed to her affection towards him. He was an irresistible energy and no amount of evil would change this fact.

The sound of heels clacked in the distance. Buddy pulled away from her and she turned towards the sound. The woman returned, Miss Patterson Buddy had said, and she was smiling.

"You ready to go, miss?"

Violet nodded and then glanced back over to Buddy. "I guess I'll see you then," she said with a smile.

He nodded. "Of course."

A pause. "When will that time be?"

His eyes widened briefly with surprise before he smirked. "Looking forward to our next meeting already?"

She glowered at him and turned up her nose, sniffing. "You wish. I just want to know so that I can make sure to be prepared. I can't tell you how much trouble I thought I was going to be in when mom's favorite lamp was broken. You better have replaced everything."

He chuckled at her. "Don't worry, and as for our next meeting..." He shrugged. "School."

"School? No other times in between?"

"Nope, not at least until you're ungrounded."

"Really?" She looked at him with open surprise. "Is there a reason why?"

He shrugged again. "It is just easier with you able to come and go as you please. It takes money to choreograph your capture."

She laughed at him and he chuckled a little with her. Miss Patterson watched them both with quiet amusement before clearing her throat. "We really must be going, Mr. Pine."

"Yes." He nodded towards Violet. "I shall see you tomorrow then in chemistry."

"Yup."

A long pause, almost too long, and when she saw his grin begin to turn devilish, she flushed brilliant red.

"And _no, _we are _not _doing that again!!"


	15. Lost and Found Again

A/N: Bllllleeeeeerrrrrggghhh. I absolutely _hate_ writer's block. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. It is so _hard_ for me to get over them AND keep the story from straying down God knows what kind of paths. Luckily, after listening to a plethora of alternative rock, I got over it and the words began to form once more. I think if this chapter had been a Violet one, you wouldn't have seen it for another week or so.

Anywhoo, my apologies for the extremely delayed post and I appreciate your patience. My gift to you is another long chapter.

This takes place _right after _the previous chapter, so yeah. :)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Lost and Found Again**

"_I'm hoping that this time goes right 'cause I've tried so hard to keep you hangin' on this life. But you always have to try and fight."_

"_Blind Sight," by Ryan Cabrera_

* * *

Violet blushed bright red, her whole face looking as if it was a ripened tomato. She looked as if she was about to pass out from embarrassment and he would have enjoyed the hilariousness of it all if it were not for the ugly feeling of stupidity that kept slamming it's giant fist into the back of his brain.

_I'm a complete, utter dumbass._

He made a forced effort to keep a smile on his face, still keeping the devious quirk of his eyebrows in place.

She scowled at him. "And _no," _she said with livid emphasis, "we are _not _doing that again!"

"You say that now," he said, grinning, "but I'm sure I could change your mind."

She went even redder before she turned her back on him and stomped up towards Miss Patterson. "Let's go," she said with a huff, giving Buddy one last indignant look before exiting through the main doors.

The moment the doors shut, Buddy let out an exhausted sigh and fell onto the couch. His head sank into his hands as he shook his head back and forth.

"You couldn't have been any more stupid," he murmured to himself bitterly before turning his face up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes, a headache throbbing behind them. "Dammit, I didn't even think."

Habits truly did die hard. When Violet had faced him and tried to fight him, he couldn't resist fighting back. It had been a blast from his evil past and the memories of all of the captured supers and the control and the vast empire he once had rushed forward and overcame him in a blissful wave. Before he could think about what he was doing, he was aiming and firing at her.

_And then she-_

She had stripped right before his very eyes. He had nearly lost it when he spotted her, standing in the middle of his kitchen wearing the barest of clothing. His emotions had swam together and created a sort of passionate hunger dwindling with the thrill of adrenaline. It had been intoxicating.

When her bra had dropped to the floor, he lost all sense. From there he couldn't quite recall what he had done, at least he couldn't remember the kinds of thoughts he had. He _did _remember being knocked silly-

-_I've got to get ice for this-_

-but nothing else besides the fact that they had fought a rather epic battle.

_I shouldn't expect anything less considering our type of relationship and the kind of jobs we have._

Still- and Buddy groaned at this- he should have never fired that first shot. If Violet had lived a life anything less than a superhero one, his plan would have absolutely failed, no questions asked. It probably _would_ have failed if he hadn't scrambled to remedy the situation, although he had thrown together his silent apology rather sloppily. It most likely had confused the living hell out of her, but at least things appeared to be fixed for the most part.

_I still would have liked to see her beg for her clothing, but sacrifices must be made for the better evil._

Buddy slowly got up to his feet and made his way back into the kitchen to get an ice back for his aching cheek. One he retrieved it and placed it gently over his wound, he went back up to his room where he could think in silence.

_I promised I would never make a move that would make her regret liking me. That means I can't be a complete idiot anymore, which means I'm going to have to learn to control my emotions better._

Buddy had been told more than once that he could be very open about his feelings. Buddy knew that this was true. When he was thinking about it, he could keep up a perfect mask that would hide any and all thoughts that were going through his head, but if his concentration wavered, even for a second, he would lose control and scream anything that he felt needed to be said.

_The little fight between Violet and I is proof of this._

He needed to be much, much more careful. He needed to be smoother, suave, and chivalrous. Of course he wouldn't completely change his attitude because then she would know immediately that something weird was up with him, but he couldn't attack her again like that.

_I _did _make a promise, after all, _pointed out a rather sarcastic voice in his head.

Buddy went and sat down on his bed, his eyes staring off into the dying sunlight as he began to concentrate. He needed to sort through the events of the past two weeks and then plan further ahead. Step by step, each move carefully placed.

_The seduction is nearly complete. I just need to keep up this little charade for as long as it will take for me to get closer to her family._

He frowned. Her family. He would have to find a way to get inside of their house, but he knew that was much easier said than done. The Parr family didn't exactly like him and visa versa. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never get Mr. Incredible to like him, but perhaps he could get the other family members to consider him…

_Yes._

His frown slowly turned up into a grin. It grew bigger and bigger as brilliance shone in his head, a genius plan of star-like quality. He sat up out of bed and got to his feet, chuckling to himself darkly.

He knew that the boy, Dash, would have to be his easiest target. The boy knew of his and Violet's relationship and apparently consented. If he worked at it, he could most likely build a friendship with him.

Helen Parr would be his next target. It was clear from their encounter in the hospital that she had much more sympathy than her husband. If he worked hard, perhaps staged a few things, then he could win her over. Her weaknesses were her children, so once he helped them, he'd get her.

Once he had both the boy's and Elastigirl's trust, Robert Parr wouldn't be able to stop him from entering his home.

_But he would still hate me, and then they will fight and bicker and scream and perhaps have their own epic battle. _Syndrome chuckled again, deeper, darker. _Finally, when they tire of fighting with one another and their family harmony is shattered, I shall come and take what is mine._

It would take time, but he didn't mind that. In fact, he liked time. It gave him the opportunity to enjoy Violet and the wiles of her feminine ways. It was greedy and selfish and it could almost be labeled as immature, but he didn't give a damn. She was _his. _He owned her body, mind, and heart and he could do whatever he pleased. He was the only one who could give or take these things away.

_I will take your purity. I will take your innocence. I will take your heart. And when I am done and sated, I will take your life._

He grinned sinisterly, his face like the devil in the blood red light of the setting sun. He released a wicked laugh, feeling his adrenaline rushing. The planning, the scheming, the brilliance- _nothing_ could make him feel so alive. This was the life he had to live in order to be complete and he would do whatever he could- even spill innocent blood- to have the sinful lifestyle he once had.

_Speaking of which…_

Syndrome turned and sauntered over towards his television. He looked over the screen, smirked to himself, and then he reached under the TV and touched a hidden button. Immediately, the television flipped around with a mechanical whir, revealing another screen, this one a pale blue. A keyboard appeared at the bottom just as "PASSWORD" flashed in bold, black letters. Syndrome quickly typed in "VENDETTA." There was a confirmation beep, and then menus and folders appeared. Buddy hit a button on the keyboard and a touch pad appeared. He used it to open a couple windows before he located yet another folder. It asked for another password and he typed in the correct sequence of numbers. Inside of the folder were hundreds of different schematics for all sorts of robots and machines and weapons. He scanned through them all, searching for one specific plan.

"Where are you?" he murmured to himself, quickly looking over each and every invention before he finally found what he was looking for. One he did, he smirked and opened it.

It appeared to be a modified version of his gauntlet, but the cuffs looked a little bigger and the pads of the fingers had light blue, glowing circles. Buddy pressed another button and the screen disappeared for a moment before it flashed on again. A holographic, 3-D version of the gauntlet appeared before him, different numbers and notes appearing here and there, different arrows point out modifications and potential flaws. He rotated it and looked it over, carefully looking over the design.

"In theory, it should work," he mumbled, freezing it and zooming in on the pads on the fingers, "but the transfer could be disastrous. Genetics and body composition could be tragically altered and result in deformations and possibly death." His eyes narrowed in thought. "Perhaps I can develop some sort of medication that would allow the body…" He let out an irritated sigh. "No, that will take too long." He looked back up at the gauntlet, a stern look on his face. He inspected it a moment longer, and then gave a nod. "It will work. It must."

He tapped a button on the keyboard and the plans disappeared. He hit another button and the screen shut off, the keyboard retreated, and the TV returned back to its original spot. He would begin to build the newly improved gauntlets tomorrow and for as long as Violet was grounded.

_And once they're done… _He chuckled. _Once they're done, I shall get what I've always wanted._

* * *

Life that week went on as usual. Buddy found out that Violet was grounded for only a week, which wasn't too big a setback in his plans. At least he still got to see her at school, but unlike that first passionate day of detention, nothing else of that nature was shared between them on the school grounds. Buddy made this decision on his own; he couldn't risk being caught and sent to jail. Their relationship age-wise was barely legal. Having that relationship extend across teacher and student would be too much.

He knew, much to his distaste, Violet was fond of their diminished contact. He saw her blatant disregard of his appearance during class, and when he tried to catch her eye, she'd simply dodge it and ignore him. It made him second-guess himself, which ended up revealing that he still had quite a bit of work to do with her. However, he wasn't going to work with her during school, so he ended her detentions and decided that he would get enough time with her outside of the building.

_But still. _

He watched her from his desk as she worked over a particularly difficult stoichiometry problem. She leaned over her paper, frowning down at it with a mixture of concentration and frustration. Occasionally she'd look over at Kari and ask a question before returning to her complicated musings.

Watching her doing such a mundane thing was actually rather fascinating.

_I don't understand this girl. She says she wants to be around me, and then she doesn't. _He frowned and gave a silent sigh of frustration_. She still feels like she shouldn't be around me, which causes her to become defensive-_

-he rubbed his aching jaw with a wince-

_-and sometimes hostile._

He had a small worry that this problem would get worse during their week of silence, but he had to hope that it wouldn't.

After school, he would go home and head into his lab and work on the gauntlets. It was a complicated and time-consuming project and it gave him headaches that only the best herbal tea and a handful of aspirin could cure. But even though the work was hard and arduous, everything seemed to be coming together nicely. He was still mildly concerned about the side-effects of using the weapon, but he figured he would worry about them when he tested it out in a real-life situation.

As of then, the invention was a flop at best and each time he attempted to use it, his unfortunate luck would somehow cause something to go haywire and he'd end up with ugly burns, singed eyebrows, and enough jolts of energy to cause his heart to skip a beat. To say that he was having a hard time was the understatement of the year.

"Work with me," he growled with frustration, gingerly bringing two open ends of wire together. They sparked on contact, but only for a second. He smirked and began to tie them together. Then, he reached for another wire, his hand closing in around it.

Energy traveled through the newly formed connection and sent an extremely painful shock through his arm. Everything went black and white and he threw himself backwards, stumbling and collapsing on the ground. He lay there, panting, his vision still blurring in and out. Slowly, as things began to come back into focus, he closed his eyes and proceeded to mentally beat himself.

"I freaking hate this…"

* * *

Friday night rolled around and Buddy was in his lab again. He was wearing large protective goggles and gloves (he was no longer in the mood for games) as he carefully welded together a metal seam. After a few more minutes of welding, he cut the gas and inspected his work, turning it slightly in his hands.

It was nearly done. There were still a few things he had to add and he needed to make it a little more aesthetically pleasing, but the mechanism he had been meddling with was finally finished. The only thing left was to test it out.

Buddy pulled off his goggles and his protective gloves and set them aside. Then, he reached for the weapon, picking it up and looking at it as if it was his child.

It didn't look anything like a gauntlet. It looked more like spidery fingers with glowing circles of blue at the ends. Gently, he put each of the pads onto his fingers and hooked the cuff holding it all together around his wrist. He tested the maneuverability of the nerves and wires, bending and flexing his fingers. Everything moved with him perfectly, as if it was a part of him. He smirked to himself with self-satisfaction.

"Now all I need is someone to test it on." He looked around, but then stopped when he realized how silly it was. It wasn't as if he had a storeroom of test subjects on site. He was going to have to wait to test it out when he had an actual subject to use.

"Which means I will have to wait for Violet," he said with a slightly irritated mumble, carefully taking off the weapon and placing it gently on the table. "I'll use her to get more test subjects."

Violet, Violet, Violet. It was always Violet. She controlled each and every step he took and it drove him crazy. When he had been planning his revenge, he should have designed it so that she wasn't the center of it all.

_But I can't change it now, can I? No, I can't. _He frowned and began to head out of his lab to go and get something to eat, storming the entire way.

_Irritating girl._

He went into the kitchen and, just as he expected, Geoffry was there, putting the finishing touches on a pan of spaghetti sauce. When the man caught sight of Buddy, he gave him a nod and a smile before he turned the stove off. Carefully picking the pan up by the handle, he guided it over to a plate already topped with noodles. He ladled out a decent amount of the sauce, steam wafting up. Gently setting the pan back down, he came over and presented Buddy's meal.

"My prize-winning spaghetti," said Geoffry proudly, sticking a fork into the pile of food as if planting a victorious flag. "If you don't like this, then you don't like life itself."

Buddy gave him an unimpressed look, but he took the plate and sat down at the kitchen counter. He spun some noodles around his fork and, with one last skeptic look towards Geoffry, put it into his mouth.

"Alright," he said after a moment, "I concede. This is the best spaghetti I've ever eaten."

Geoffry smiled and bowed. "Then my life's purpose has been completed."

As Buddy ate, Geoffry served himself up his own tiny bowl. After eating, he began to clean up, putting the leftovers into containers that would be given to the rest of Buddy's employees later when their shifts were done. The motions were memorized after year upon year of the same routine. It brought Buddy comfort; it was familiar and unchanging, unlike his life then with Violet.

_Too much trouble, as always. Everything has to be so complicated with her, so complex. It's absolutely infuriating at times. Why didn't I think of a better plan?_

"Sir?"

Buddy didn't look up, but he made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Is this about Miss Violet again?"

"I hate that girl," growled Buddy suddenly, glaring at the counter. "I have to change my entire personality to fit her picky needs. At least," he said with a sigh, "things are finally coming together."

Geoffry gave Buddy a hidden look. "I thought you said you enjoyed her company, sir."

Buddy stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. Yes… part of him did like her company, but that part hardly had a brain. Everything else that could form a coherent thought was absolutely sick of the girl.

"Geoffry, let me supply you with an analogy that would properly describe my feelings towards her." Buddy looked up now. "Violet is like a drug. Now, you know drugs make you feel good and one time using it is not enough. You have to have more and more of it. You need that pleasant feeling, the feeling of complete rapture. However…" Buddy eyes looked away and out the window. "Everyone knows the sin of drugs and how they destroy one's life. Even when somebody is taking that next hit, they know it's one step closer towards their doom. It is hated and desired all at the same time. You can't truly love it, but you can certainly lust for it. There is no love for something that makes you lose your mind because when you have no mind, you have no sense between right or wrong, good or bad, and most certainly not any sense of what is loved or hated. For example, I'm sure you've seen family members hurt by one another when a spouse or child has become addicted. Their minds are clouded by that desire, and only until the fog disappears can one truly understand their feelings."

Geoffry was silent for a moment. Then, "You don't know how you feel for her, then?"

Buddy looked at him sidelong and snorted. "I am fully aware of how I feel for her." He stood up and began to exit the kitchen.

Geoffry jumped. "Wait, sir!"

Buddy turned, his eyes narrowed with slight irritation. "Yes?"

"Then… how _do_ you feel for her?" he asked after a moment of hesitation.

Buddy looked at Geoffry for a short second, and then smirked at him, snorting at him again. "Foolish Geoffry," he said with a chuckle, turning around and walking to the doorway. "What I feel is nothing more than desire. It is basic, but raw, and I can live with it." Buddy turned his head slightly. "Why can I live with it? Because it keeps me safe."

"How?"

Buddy paused again, but continued on. "If I do not have her, I do not have a drug. When there is no drug, there is no fog. No fog, no lies." His expression grew reserved and cold. "And I do not care for the truth." Finally, he left the kitchen, leaving Geoffry alone to sort out his thoughts.

Buddy wandered around for a little while, his head still mulling over his own analogy. It had come on its own accord and while it was truthful, it was shocking because of its truth. It forced Buddy to analyze his relationship and feelings towards Violet a little more. But each time he felt he understood a little more, he could not look any further and turned away, shutting down all roads of thought. He dared not to look beyond anything that he already understood, but now that he had explored that dark, shadowy territory, his mind refused to let the subject drop. And when his mind wouldn't shut up, he knew that there was only one solution.

Buddy turned off his current path and went down another hall towards a thick mahogany door. Opening it, it revealed a billiard room, an impressive bar in the far corner. While this sight was a blessing, he was even more relieved to see absolutely no one inside.

"Solitude," he sighed as if it was a prayer. He shut the door behind him and quickly made his way towards the bar. He went behind the counter and grabbed a crystal bottle of rum. Beneath the counter was a small refrigerator and from that he produced forth a liter of Coke. He methodically added the soda pop and alcohol together in a glass filled with ice. Taking his glass, he sat down on a bar stool and took a long drink. Almost immediately, his chaotic thoughts began to smooth out.

"Much better." Taking another drink, he pulled out his palm pilot and searched through his e-mail. No matter what he was doing, he couldn't truly relax. He was always working, but this work was welcome. It gave him a purpose and focused his mind on important, useful matters.

His inbox was filled with letters from foreign officials concerning different weapon ideas. Each one was waiting for different blueprints, but Buddy was not about to give them up. He wanted more money for his brilliant ideas and his employers were being extremely greedy and refused to increase his pay.

_Well, until they can get their own genius, I'd better damn well get paid what's due._

He had a letter from Miss Patterson. It was a reminder that Violet was to be ungrounded that Saturday. It was about time; Buddy didn't think he could wait any longer. He had so many ideas he wanted to try out, but he had been forced to wait, and he didn't like waiting. Quickly, he sent an e-mail to his secretary, asking her to set up a time for him to meet with Violet, and then continued to search through his inbox.

"And here's the prom letters," said Buddy irritably, scrolling down through the different e-mails. One was actually directed towards Geoffry. It seemed that the teachers loved the spring cake from a few days before and asked if his chef could make a larger one. Buddy forwarded the e-mail to Geoffry and then read other letters. Of course, each one _had _to be more annoying than the last, all of them filled with nonsense ideas and comments that even sounded absurd to him. Not only that, each one had the same exact question:

"Did you decide on a theme?"

"No, I did not decide on a theme," growled Buddy, "so stop asking me!" He tapped the delete button furiously, watching with extreme satisfaction each annoying letter disappear into the vast void of internet data. He pocketed the palm pilot and took another drink. With a Rum Coke in hand, he would at least _try _and think of a prom theme.

"What do teenagers like?" He tried to think of his own adolescent years and steal inspiration from that, but it was like trying to squeeze water from a rock. He wasn't exactly popular when he was younger and had spent most of his time in solitude. When all of the other kids were out partying and watching football games, he was inside of his room, coming up with new inventions.

Buddy rubbed his eyes, already feeling frustrated. "I can't do this," he grumbled to himself. "I have no idea what to do." He sighed helplessly. "Maybe I _will _have to consult Miss Patterson." He shuddered. "Even worse, maybe I'll have to get advice from that peppy prom committee girl, Jessica or Jasmine or something."

He didn't want to do that. At all. Ever. So, he fixed himself another glass of Rum Coke, hoping that inspiration would come to him sooner or later.

* * *

Unfortunately for him, inspiration would never come. The only thing he would get was extremely drunk.

"You aren't gonna make that shot," pointed out Buddy with the barest of slurs as he leaned against his cue stick, the only thing that was keeping him upright.

Geoffry ignored him and instead focused on the task at hand. "Eight ball in the corner pocket," he said again, carefully calculating the distance between the tip of his cue stick and the small pocket, a field of striped colored balls filling the space between both. Geoffry had the advantage of being sober and was easily sweeping the game. This, of course, didn't make Buddy very happy.

"Make your damn move," barked Buddy. "I'm not going to sit here and watch you stare."

"Patience, sir," said Geoffry easily, still focused. Tentatively, he moved the stick in his hand back and forth, testing the steadiness of his hand. With another quick mental calculation, he struck the cue ball. It went off with a crack, clacked off of one of Buddy's balls, and shot straight into the corner pocket.

"That's bullcrap!" Buddy threw down his cue stick and wheeled around, stumbling forward and pointing an accusing finger at Geoffry. "You bastard, you cheated!"

"How could I have cheated?" Geoffry made sure to stay a safe distance away from Buddy and didn't make any move of victory. He simply collected up the billiard balls and started rearranging them into the rack.

Buddy would have punched Geoffry, but there were more than one of him and he wasn't sure which one was the real Geoffry. Everything kept multiplying and moving and his mind couldn't keep up. So, he resigned to just cursing at him.

"Fine," he spat angrily, "so you didn't cheat. But you pulled some tricky shit, I know. What'd you do?"

Geoffry went away from the pool table and sat on a bar stool a healthy pace away. "I played the game, nothing more or less."

"Bullcrap! I know you did something. Tell me!"

"I'm telling you, sir, I did nothing but play."

Buddy glared daggers at Geoffry, his teeth clenched. Not only did he lose the blasted game, the idiotic man wouldn't tell him how he had won! He was Buddy Pine, his boss and ultimate power. How _dare _he keep information from him!

"You're gonna tell me one way or another!" growled Buddy harshly, taking a furious step forward only to stumble and collapse against the pool table, knocking the billiard balls every which way.

"Sir," said Geoffry without any offensive tone, "you asked me to come up here and help you with a prom theme. We spent approximately twenty minutes fumbling with useless ideas and got absolutely nowhere. Shouldn't we keep brainstorming?"

Buddy, still leaning heavily against the pool table, made a face of disgust. "Prom?" He snorted and tried to stand up, but the world suddenly tipped slightly and he had to lower himself closer to the table so that he wouldn't topple over. "I fucking hate prom," he grumbled again, straightening slowly. "I never liked it."

Geoffry gave him a hidden look. "Really? Why?"

Buddy was quiet for a moment, staring off into his own world. Then, his eyes grew cold and he looked away. "No one wanted to go with me. I was the Creepy Geek and no one wanted to be caught dead with me, especially at _prom._" He spat the word out with distaste. "But it doesn't matter now because I'm going to have something infinitely better than any damn date."

As Buddy got up and slowly made his way towards a bar stool, Geoffry was getting up. "Sir, it seems to me that you aren't going to be able to do any more thinking tonight, so I'm going to turn in. It's late and I have a lot to do tomorrow." He looked down at his watch and gave a defeated sigh. "Rather, today."

Buddy grumbled some incoherent response, Geoffry assuming it was some grumpy agreement. He said a quick goodnight to Buddy and left, leaving the man all by himself.

"I don't need any damn prom." Buddy looked down at the table, located his glass, and took a swig. "I need money, power, and my revenge. I don't need anything else…"

_Eyes, like nightshade._

Buddy gripped his glass with white-knuckle strength. "I don't need anything else," he whispered bitterly, "especially not her."

After another hour of zero ideas and dozens of drinks, he finally stumbled back into his room. He attempted to set his glass on his nightstand, but apparently the desk had the ability to teleport because the moment he moved to place the drink down, the nightstand disappeared and his glass fell to the ground, shattering in a mess of glass and alcohol and ice.

"Damn." He looked around for a mop and broom, but after a minute of searching, he realized that he wouldn't be able to find either of those in his room. He scoffed at himself and his silly idea and then decided that he would get somebody else to clean it up for him tomorrow.

"What time is it?" He glanced down at his alarm clock- no, wait, there were three alarm clocks. Since when did he have three? He read all three, each one blazing in bright red numbers, one o'clock in the morning. He needed to go to bed soon because he had things to do the next morning. Important things, or at least he thought they were important.

"No, they're important," nodded Buddy sullenly. He collapsed on his bed, feebly trying to kick off his shoe with his other foot. "If I don't see Violet, then everything is going to fall apart." His shoe fell to the carpet, and then he started on the other one. "And I still need to think of a theme…" He snorted. "I should have worked on that a little harder. Oh well. Maybe Violet might have an idea…" He blinked and smirked a little. "Violet… Maybe a theme of purple. Like twilight or something. Violet Night. Night… Nightshade…" His face turned into the cushion of his comforter. "Nightshade, poison, poison dust… poison in her eyes…"

He passed out before he could get his other shoe off.

* * *

Buddy didn't get up until eleven-thirty the next day. The moment he opened his eyes, he immediately slammed them shut and let out an agonized moan. He threw the covers over his head, praying that the sun would suddenly decide to explode and douse his room in precious darkness.

"Call Miss Patterson," he commanded with a groan.

"Yes, Mr. Pine," said a pleasant mechanical voice. The line clicked, and the phone rang once before his secretary answered it.

"Good morning, Mr. Pine, or rather good afternoon. Finally decided to get out of bed, sir?"

"I am not out of bed," he growled, his head pounding. "In fact, I don't plan on leaving my bed until I get a bottle of aspirin up in my room, pronto."

Miss Patterson sighed at him and he knew that she knew he had spent another night in the billiard room, but she had the mind to keep her mouth shut. She could get away with a few things, but the day she scolded him was the day she became a missing person.

_That actually doesn't sound too bad._

"I'll be up there in a minute," she said with just the barest hints of frustration in her voice before the line clicked dead. Buddy waited with little patience for her to come, and when she finally did, he yelled at her for being loud, slow, and accused her of being retarded. He even threw the bottle of aspirin at her, white pills flying everywhere.

"Get out of here, you irritating she-thing!"

"Humph!" She exited the room with her nose turned up, insulted. He ignored her and retreated back under his covers, waiting for the medicine to kick in.

_Why do I keep doing this? _

Another half hour later, Buddy finally got up and started getting ready for the day. He was still a little sensitive to light and sound, but his headache wasn't as bad anymore.

"It's a miracle." Buddy reluctantly pulled himself out from under his covers and moved his legs slowly over and out of the bed. The movement disagreed with him, but he forced himself up with a grunt. He pulled his hand down his face, his eyes feeling like little weights of aching pain. Then, he stretched, his hands reaching for the ceiling.

Immediately, he slammed his arms back down to his sides. He needed to wash. Badly. So, he dragged himself to his bathroom, throwing off his clothes in the process and tossing them wherever. He wasn't a very organized fellow and didn't bother cleaning up what he left behind. That job was for his maids.

He took a long, lukewarm shower, his thoughts collecting together as the water ran down his body, occasionally tracing down different scars scattered across his skin, the marks of survival. His eyes were closed, his body was relaxed, and in the privacy of his bathroom, he allowed himself a relived sigh of pure content.

He got out and started to get dressed. As he fixed his collar, he called his secretary again. Now that his head didn't feel like it was filled with caffeine-infected toddlers, he didn't feel as hostile towards the woman.

"Have you organized today's plans, Miss Patterson?" asked Buddy, inspecting his shirt.

"Yes, sir." She still sounded pretty riled, but not as badly as before. "I have you for lunch at one with Miss Violet."

Buddy smirked softly to himself as he tugged the wrinkles out of his sleeves. It had been almost too long, this week without her. It was a bit of a relief for him to have her back where he could keep a closer eye on her and analyze her with better scrutiny. It was all very important and necessary if he was going to get closer to her and build this _comfort._

_Comfort. _He frowned and made a face of distaste. _How weak. How _lame. _Why must it be something so… so _sweet? _It's all so stupid._

But he had to do it. His former mentor had told him the repercussions of not building comfort. If he didn't finish the final step and spend more one-on-one time with her, she would view him as something larger than life. Yeah, she'd be attracted to him, but she'd feel no connection towards him as a real human being. This, of course, was not the best of things considering the fact that he wanted to get closer to her family, and if she just saw him as this fantastical _thing, _there'd be no way she would even being to think of bringing him into her home.

_And I just can't have that, no sir, I can't. _He gave his shirt one last sharp tug, swiped his hand over his hair, and quickly glanced into his bathroom mirror. "What else is on today's agenda?"

"Your presence has been requested at a meeting today concerning the prom," said Miss Patterson. "I do hope that you have thought of a theme."

Buddy let out an irritated groan. "I nearly forgot about that. Thank you reminding me," he spat with bitter sarcasm. "God, I haven't even come close to thinking of an idea."

"Well, you better think of something by four-thirty because that's the time you have to pitch your idea."

Buddy let out another groan, louder this time. "Dammit. Those stupid prom committee kids were absolutely no help whatsoever. Can you believe they wanted to have a jungle theme? I have very little experience with these kinds of things and even _I _know how stupid that idea is. What teen wants to remember their prom as the one where the monkey danced in the punch bowl and the prom king and queen contracted malaria? No one, that's who."

Buddy shut the bathroom lights off with a bitter command before storming into his room and pacing around, his face twisted into an expression of pure aggravation. "I may have money, I may have power, and I may have a genius mind." Buddy stopped suddenly before clenching his teeth and swiping out with anger. "But that does not mean that I have the ability to come up with a damn _teenage fantasy!_"

Silence, then Miss Patterson's lackadaisical voice.

"You know, I've been thinking-"

"I do _not _want _any _of your ideas," interrupted Buddy with a snap, "so don't even _begin _to think that you have the authority to tell me what I should do."

Miss Patterson let out a huff. "Fine, sir. Whatever you say." The line clicked dead, and under normal circumstances he would have been offended by her abrupt departure, but at that moment he just wanted her gone.

"Irritating woman. Why do I even keep her around?"

He paused.

_Wait. Why _do _I keep her around?_

The mysterious answer would continue to evade him because at the moment he began to shed light on the question, (_I could have sworn it had to do with her sister… or brother? Somebody?_) the doorbell rang. It pushed all random thoughts out of the way, sweeping away distracting debris and polishing off his precious plot of revenge. Lists and bullet points darted in his head in a quick, but orderly fashion and he analyzed each one, cradling all with a tender, loving feeling. He valued his genius more than any amount of precious jewels or treasures, and his plan towards getting what was due to him was the most brilliant of all his ideas.

_But to keep them safe, I must sacrifice something that is equally precious to me. _

Buddy took in a deep breath, preparing himself for the truth

_I must… suck in my pride and act... _kindly_._

He winced, almost appearing as if he had been struck.

The truth hurt.

_Alright, Buddy. You ready for some exceptional acting? Let's go build some 'comfort.' Let's go be loving and caring and all those other things you hate with every fiber of your being. You can do it._

Buddy paused, rolling the idea around in his head. He let it settle for a moment as he looked it over, and then suddenly took the idea and kicked it far, far away, out of mind completely. He snorted to himself.

_I'll be tolerable, but that's it. This is going to be hard enough as it is, so why should I learn how to swim in a shark's tank? _Buddy drew himself up in a gesture of pride. _I've gotten her to like me so far for all of my 'faults.' I can continue this pattern just as easy as snapping my fingers._

An over-inflated ego helped quite a bit in situations like this. It gave hope and light to things that were very much shrouded in darkness and probably covered in landmines. But that was okay because an ego also masked any feelings of fear. It was quite the gift.

The doorbell rang again, the melodious sound humming through the house. Buddy gave himself a moment to compose himself before he exited his room and headed towards the main hall. He walked slowly without a single sign of haste. Violet would wait for him, not the other way around. Besides, he wanted to think to himself for a moment longer before he saw her again.

_I wonder what has gone through her head during our separation. _He hoped that nothing negative, meaning nothing that would come at cross purposes with his own, passed through her mind. But it had been a fair amount of time and all of that silence between them at school wasn't a good sign. Realistic questions must have bubbled up into her irritating skull.

Had she mulled over the obvious danger of their relationship? Had she recalled the memories of the deadly Syndrome? If he knew anything about supers, women, and teens, he could compile an answer to all of those questions.

_Yes._

He groaned, coming to a stop as his headache began to return. He had brought this upon himself. Not only did he cut off contact between them, in and out of school, he didn't even have an inside camera anymore. Violet had apparently put the bear somewhere dark and out of the way because when he had tried to access the cameras, all he saw and heard were complete darkness and the occasional obscure sounds of her house. He had literally shut off all ties with her, which was not the smartest of things.

_Fantastic. I'll bet that I'm going to have to build some more trust again along with that blasted comfort. Dammit, I should have thought things through a little more, but of course my idiot mind had to pull out _this_ mess._

Buddy's emotions were looking to be a bit more feminine than most men's. They were going up and down like a vomit-inducing roller coaster, and now he was sitting at the bottom of the tracks after plummeting from a joyous high. He didn't like it much and it made him even more reluctant to see the girl. It was just more work, more sacrifices, and more pride-crushing agony. He was male, and he wanted to roar, but when all this different crap kept flying in his face and throwing him off his course, he was reduced to a reluctant, but excruciating crawl of humility.

_One step, two… _Anger and frustration could be heavy shackles on a man's feet, a fact being easily proven that moment.

_Three… three and a half…_

A one minute walk suddenly turned into a ten minute snail's race. He heard the doorbell ring again, but he ignored it and continued to move at his own painful pace. It was reluctance at its finest, nearly pulling him back into his room, but his feet _barely _kept taking steps forward. He knew he was being a bit childish, but he didn't really care. He truly didn't. He deserved his own moments of selfish sulking, and no matter who said or thought what, it didn't matter because he was Buddy Pine and Buddy Pine did whatever the hell he wanted, and if anyone had a problem with that, he'd simply crush them like little ants under his thumb. No tricks, no frills. They'd disappear because he had that kind of power.

_Three and one sixteenth…_

Somebody eventually opened the door for Violet, which made him think briefly about the quality of his doormen, but he didn't speed up at all. In fact, if it were at all possible, he moved even slower.

Of course, it didn't look like he was actually moving in slow motion. It was more like he took the longest amounts of time to look at the least fascinating of things. For example, the moment he heard Violet's soft, "Thank you," from below, he stopped and inspected a painting that he was not particularly fond of. He inspected it so closely, he could probably name the type of paintbrush that had been used just by comparing it to the brush strokes that lined each and every detail.

_Hm. Why did I buy this again?_

"Buddy?"

Buddy looked up.

"Buddy, you here?"

He tensed.

A pause in which Violet let out a sigh of frustration. "Buddy, please, no games.

Buddy frowned slightly to himself as he looked away from the painting. Violet sounded… off. Perhaps even nervous.

_Why in the world would she be nervous?_

His previous brooding dissipated, and he returned to his normal pace, even speeding up slightly, his steps brisk. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at Violet who caught his eyes.

The moment he looked at her, he knew something was wrong.

_Dammit…!_

As he stepped down the stairs, the new information tumbled around in his mind. Yes, she looked upset. Yes, she looked disheveled. Yes, if he had been any other person, he would have immediately rushed over to her to ask if she was alright. But none of that mattered. He didn't care about any of the tears. What he _did _care about was what caused it.

He stopped before her and looked her over. "Violet?"

Violet looked up at him, her giant, heart-wrenching, damned poisonous eyes watering. "Buddy," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I can't do this…"

Buddy froze, his mind screeching to a halt. Her words echoed over and over in his mind, vibrating and ringing like the forlorn cries of tortured souls. They threw themselves against his precious plot, his sweet revenge that he had taken care of with the utmost delicacy and loved with his blackened heart.

To his horror, he thought he heard his vengeance crack.

"No," he bit out quickly, "you will explain yourself before you say such things." He grabbed onto her shoulders and shook her roughly, forcing her to look up at him. "Now!" he snapped. "Tell me why!"

Violet choked, eyes darting, lip trembling. "This is all wrong," she blubbered. "All of it. None of this should have _ever _have happened."

Her eyes darted every which way, hesitant to rest on his confused, but enraged gaze. He shook her again, his fury beginning to snap as his plan began to crumble.

"Violet! You will explain yourself this _instant!"_

He shook her again, harder, and her head snapped up. Her eyes pinned his and their gazes locked, floods of chaotic thoughts and emotions pushing forth in a confusing wave. Through the current of chaos, something solid and burning pushed forward from within Violet's eyes. It came forward, like a sharp sword just drawn from a fire. As it dug its pointed tip into the center of everything, her eyes grew hard and she ripped away from him like a furious cat.

"This is all your fault!" she screamed, pointing an accusing finger at him. "All of it!" The moment of blind fury passed and she drew further away from him, fear flickering in her gaze, but she was not done yet. Burning tenacity took over her entire posture, everything that was her rebelling against him and drawing her further, but higher from him. She looked at him as if he was a lesser being, as if _he _was the ant beneath her thumb.

It was then he knew that the fucking girl had somehow come to the conclusion that he was no longer needed.

"I am better than you," she said quietly, her voice shaking with a powerful amount of resolve. "I am stronger than you." She lifted her chin up at him, somehow pulling off the unthinkable:

_She _looked down at _him._

"I don't need you," she spat.

Long, thick, awful silence. A moment of shock, disbelief, denial that she had just said such a thing!

Then, fury. Complete and utter _fury. _It was so hot, so powerful, like an inferno inside of him, building, swirling, a hot tempest of ultimate _anger, _he could not think. No thinking, no rationality. Just consume. Possess. _Dominate. Destroy _any and _all _thoughts that would _dare _label him as _less, _that would _dare _poison her mind with thoughts that would _push her away from him! _

He was Syndrome. He was power. He was retribution and those who dared to see him as _anything _lower than such would be crushed, dissolved, eaten away by his darkening hunger.

_No one _crossed him. _No one_ denied him.

Suddenly, she was in his arms. She was beating her fists against his chest. None of it mattered. They were small pebbles of reality plinking off his haze of wrath and passion. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her forward with blind fierceness. He descended upon her, crushing his mouth upon hers, literally consuming all of those rebellious thoughts of hers with his controlling kiss.

Bright pain, and then he ripped his face away, his tongue darting out to lick the blood dribbling off of his lip. He smirked at her, a frightening, demonic smirk.

"You think you can deny me," he whispered harshly, his eyes focusing in and honing in on her beautiful, beautiful, poisonous eyes. "You think you can fly away from me, my beauty." His face came closer to hers, and her eyes widened with utter fear.

"You can't leave me," he said with a spine-tingling fierceness. "You can't, no matter how hard you try." His eyes narrowed. "You're already in my grasp."

Violet, struck with fear, stared at him as her defenses began to crack and fall apart.

"You're insane," she whispered.

_Insane… Yes, perhaps I am._

Syndrome's angry eyes twisted and danced into a mirage of hot passion and lust. Warped bullet points stretched and spun around in his mind, highlighting and underlining all sorts of things. As he followed the bright colors, he realized they all lead down a path leading directly towards the girl before her. More specifically, her heart.

He wanted that heart. He _needed _that heart, and it was not only because of his desire for revenge. No, somewhere within the black confines of his heart, a part still bled red blood, and within the middle of it's pulsating life was a curled up wish, a whisper of a hope that perhaps…

His eyes softened and his touch became gentle. He held onto her as if she was a cherished dream that, if not held onto, would be forgotten and lot forever. He didn't want to lose it, no. It was a lovely dream, one of the few nice ones he had. It was so beautiful, like a fantasy. He wanted to keep it; oh he wanted to keep it.

Violet was looking at him with mixed confusion and… tenderness. It made him want to hold onto her tighter.

"Buddy…"

The tenderness disappeared. Now all that was left was a skeptic look. That look stung more than it should have, and holding onto the dream became a painful chore. He had to let it go, but it was difficult. It had been such a lovely dream.

The dream was gone, and once its beauty pulled itself free of his mind, calculating, twisting, sly, darkened colors creped up, closer, further into his mind, bleeding and twisting around his brain, digging itself into every thought. It grew, sprouting all sorts of ideas, and when the blossoms unfolded, so did his cunning, his insanity. It made everything inverted, opposite, wrongs and rights and yeses and noses. Noses, on faces. Her face. Her ugly, beautiful face, because things were opposite and both, yet not. Which meant she was right, but wrong, because he may be insane, but he was also quite brilliant.

_Yes, I am brilliant, but also insane. It's a potent combination, I think._ And what did his brilliance tell him to do? It told him to be careful with her. He still had a job to do.

His insanity, however, was separate from his rational mind. It enjoyed Violet, and hated, but mostly enjoyed her. Violet deserved a couple truths, a few more cards for her hand. Of course, this was a rather foolish move, but again, he was insane, and maniacs weren't very fond of sagacity.

He grinned at her suddenly, making her jump. "Oh, my dear," he cooed, his hand coming up and brushing her jaw, "you still don't understand the depths of my mind. There's a lot going on in here." He tapped his knuckles against his skull. "All you seem to do is skim across the top of things. You just see me as crazy. Nothing more." Syndrome gave her a twisted smile of sweetness. "You know, _you're _the reason why I'm so… _crazy._"

Violet's eyes widened. "What?"

He didn't hear her. He was busy being fascinated about the smoothness of her skin. His hand trailed up and down her neck before he cupped her cheek. He inhaled sharply the scent of vanilla. "You are so… _addicting._" He nipped her bottom lip slightly, noting her small expression of surprise. "Surely you must know the power you have over me."

Violet, for all that she was, would have never guessed she would ever hear those words fall from his lips.

"…Huh?"

Syndrome seemed a tiny bit surprised at his admission, but each and every step of his pretty dance tipped away all of the shock and revealed the simplest of truths. "You're right." He smirked. "You are better than me. You are stronger than me. You don't need me. But I need you."

He took her and spun her around, pushing her backwards and forcing her into the couch. He loomed over her, putting his weight on her. She struggled, but only slightly. Her eyes were quickly growing dark, just as his were. Everything was coming down, spinning and spinning into a single point that threatened to explode.

Buddy's face came closer to hers. "You can't leave me," he said, his voice husky. "You mustn't. I need you. Don't you understand?"

"No," she said shakily, "I don't. Buddy-"

"I need you," he said again, pushing more and more emphasis into his words. "And, because I need you, you are compelled to help me, which is why _I _have _you." _He smiled. "Isn't it grand, this circle, this pattern of lust and passion? Oh, the kinds of threads fate can spin."

Violet stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes suddenly narrowed a fraction. "Syndrome," she said quietly, "you're sounding more and more like a lunatic."

Syndrome blinked at her, and then laughed before kissing her just for the hell of it. He was pleased at the fact she had not pulled away. "Oh, Violet, you're learning more and more each and every day!" He gave her a critical look. "But, wait. Perhaps you are not Violet? Perhaps… Invisigirl?" His expression grew invasive as he looked over each and every flicker of emotion in her eyes. "It works both ways, girlie."

Violet was startled at his words, and he waited with a bit of silent laugher as she tried to find a way out of the corner he had backed her into.

"I-"

"You cannot call me one and the other. I am both in the same, and the longer you think of me as two separate people, the tougher our relationship is going to be on you."

Her eyes grew defensive. "I do not view you as two people. I am merely calling you what you are acting. If you had suddenly started playing tea party, I'd call you a child. You are acting insane and crazy and dangerous, so I call you Syndrome."

"Ah," he said, "but a child has no name. It is a noun, and a noun without any specific attachment is just a word. You refer to me as Syndrome, which has significance in your past, present and most indefinitely your future. If I compared your last example to a current one, instead of referring to me as Syndrome, you should have called me madman. Yet you were compelled to do otherwise, which then proves the fact that you insist to separate my personality and call them Buddy and Syndrome, even though they are one person, me." Syndrome chuckled at the hilarity of it all. "It is like seeing you split a diamond and calling half of it coal even though the rock sparkles with the brilliance of a thousand stars."

"Then what would you have me do?" she exclaimed. "Calling a man who looks and acts like a murder an innocent name like Buddy is like calling a crocodile Fluffy!"

Buddy laughed at her analogy, even though she was deadly serious about it. "It's quite simple, really." He smirked at her. "I am Buddy Pine. I believe I have gone over this with you numerous times. I have not been Syndrome for a long time. If I had my costume and mask on, then yes, I would be Syndrome, but I am not, so Buddy remains. I'm sure you've read or seen a couple superhero shows. Their alter ego is never referred to as their superhero name. It just never happens. So, I conclude that you should call me Buddy, and only Buddy. If I happen to don another blasted cape, then feel free to call me by my supervillain name."

Violet took in all this information with quite a bit of reluctance. In fact, she was so against it that simply had no patience to deal with it. So, he decided that he didn't need to wait and instead got up off the couch and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. It all happened very suddenly, and it took her a long second to realize she was being hauled away. When realization finally did hit, she pounded her fist against his back, screaming her indignation. Again, he didn't care. He did what he pleased and it pleased him to treat her as if she was a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down this instant!"

"Are you still going to leave me?"

Her fist froze in mid-strike. Slowly, it came to rest upon his back.

"…No."

"And do you understand why you are to call me Buddy?"

"Partially."

He jostled her roughly.

"Yes, yes, I understand, so don't do that again."

"What, you mean this?"

He jostled her again, his shoulder digging into her stomach. She grew huffy and she twisted around in his grasp, wiggling and falling out of his arms, dropping to the floor in a rather painful 'thud.' As she nursed her aching bottom, Syndrome watched her with a separate, detached feeling.

Part of him was still rambunctious and warm with lust, but another part still smoldered. It was a blue ember of cold rage, and it had been tucked away during their interaction. Now that things had finally begun to settle, that separate part began to grow back into a flickering flame, growing brighter and brighter, shedding withering light onto the black parts of his mind.

_She had the audacity to think she could leave me. What's more, she thought herself _better _than me!_

He had agreed with her, but those were words. Simply words. Nothing more. They did nothing to mask the truth, which was he was _infinitely _better than her.

_What in the hell could have sparked this foolish thought in her head?_

"Violet," he said, his tone dark, "why did you think to leave me?"

Violet jumped at his voice, and she looked up at him with slight fear. Her attitude changed and became weaker, submissive. "My own thoughts," she said quietly, looking to her left. "I had a lot of time to think, and I-I guess I thought too hard-"

He knelt down to her and forced her chin up towards him all in one movement. He gripped her tightly. "You're lying," he whispered. "Tell me the truth. Who talked to you about us?"

"No one talked to me," she said sharply before suddenly drawing away and looking down, away from him. "…No one… no one talked to me. I… I talked to them."

Buddy refrained from grabbing her chin again. He didn't move because he knew that if he did, he'd most likely bruise her from the fury that was building in his tightening fists.

"You…" He shook slightly as his anger built up inside of him. It wasn't only because she had told; it was because he had _trusted _her to tell no one.

He had _trusted _Violet.

_And I do not trust _anyone.

"Who did you talk to?_" _he asked with such quiet ferocity, a chill ran through Violet's body.

"Before you get even angrier," she said, "I just want to say that I didn't mention your name at all. In fact, my mom thinks it's about Kari's boyfriend-"

"You told your _mother? _You told _Elastigirl?!" _Buddy sprung back from her. If he didn't, he knew he would hurt her. "Jesus Christ, out of all the people… Did you talk to your dad as well? Or did you want to wait for me to accompany you?"

"I had to talk to someone, Buddy," explained Violet, slowly unfolding herself and standing up off the floor. "Dash is good to rely on, but he doesn't have any experience with this kind of thing. I just… I just really needed some advice."

Buddy shoved his face into his hands, groaning at how stupid he had been and how close everything had come to collapsing. How could he have let such a fatal flaw pass him by?

"Buddy…" Violet took a step forward before she bowed her head. "I'm… I'm sorry. I knew I wasn't supposed to talk about our relationship to anyone, but… I was feeling really…"

She trailed off, which was odd. He glanced up at her, noticing the small jump she made when his eyes came into view. She had been looking at something. Her sleeve?

"You were feeling…?"

Violet jumped again. "I-I was just feeling confused about all of… _this._" She gestured around her, at the walls of the Pine Mansion. "It was too much for my still-growing teenage brain."

Buddy smirked at her and her silliness. "Oh really?" He turned and faced her, his smirk fading slightly. "But I've got to ask: what did you tell your mother?"

"I told her that Kari had met a boy at school who was part of the bad crowd. I said Kari felt really bad for liking this boy because of what kind of person he was, even though the boy had stopped using drugs a long time ago." She shrugged. "Basically, I put our situation into the form of a high school drama."

"Do you think she doesn't know the truth?"

"Most likely. Kari's gotten into similar situations before."

Buddy chuckled, relaxing. Things weren't nearly as bad as he had thought, which was an infinite relief. Still, he had trusted her with information that was far too precious. He would have to be much more careful in the future.

_Mustn't let my guard down…_

Violet grew awkward again. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I shouldn't have even talked to her."

He waved her apology away. He wouldn't let her mull over it. Not only did he not want to deal with a sulking teenager, he had to make sure that he acted _kindly _towards her. Build _comfort _with her.

The thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

"It's nearly one," he said, looking at a nearby clock. "We still have lunch to eat. You hungry?"

Violet blinked at him and looked down at her stomach. Right on cue, it let out a low, ravenous grumble. She looked back up at him with a sheepish expression, letting out a embarrassed laugh.

"Heh heh… Maybe a little."

He gave her a smirk. "I'm sure Geoffry has something prepared for us in the kitchen."

They went to the kitchen and sure enough, there was a platter of sandwiches sitting out for them. They each took one and munched quietly inside of the kitchen. Violet started a little small talk and they chatted amiably about weather and current events. It was peaceful and pleasant, even for Buddy. But the point was that she was relaxing in his presence. She felt comfortable, and that was all that he needed.

As they talked, another part of him focused on separate, but equally important matters. He finally had somebody to use to find somebody test the Gauntlet on, but staging the circumstances were going to be difficult. He couldn't exactly ask her to drag someone in.

He grinned silently to himself. Perhaps he would have to play the role of the hero, again.

Their talk went from topic to topic until it finally reached school matters. This, of course, inevitably led to the discussion about prom.

"No," he groaned, "talk about anything. Puppies, babies, rainbows, anything but that."

"You still haven't figured out what you're going to do for the prom?" she asked, a small, teasing smile on her face.

He glared at her. "No," he said waspishly, "I haven't, and I don't think I could ever come up with an idea." He sighed heavily. "And I must present a theme to the school board today."

Violet gave out a hiss of pain. "Bummer. I would help you, but I'm no good with these kinds of things either."

Buddy sighed again, calling upon every single bit of creative energy he had within him and forcing it into his mind as a last-ditch effort. Of course this didn't work very well. All he could think of were numbers and blueprints for very rectangular and sharp images. Nobody wanted to go to a dance that looked as if it had been assembled by a manual.

_This is too hard. My mind isn't made to think of nice things. There's nothing like that in my life, so what am I supposed to do?_

He looked back up at Violet who was folding and unfolding her napkin, appearing rather bored.

Then, genius.

_Wait… I do have a bit of inspiration in my life._

"Violet Night."

Violet jumped, dropped her napkin, and stared at him.

"What did you just say?"

"Violet Night," he said again, the cogs of his mind spinning. "That will be the theme. Purples and pinks and perhaps some stars. Maybe I can make a simulated sky." He nodded to himself. "Yes… Yes, that should work."

Violet looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted bunny ears. "Where in the world did this idea come from? Just a second ago you-"

"Shhh! I'm thinking!" He pulled out his palm pilot and went to his notepad. He began to type in different ideas concerning decorations and music and location. Everything that he brainstormed centered around his thoughts and feelings for the girl sitting across from him. The softness, the fragility, the beauty, the endless purple. Without even trying, he was creating something of stunning quality.

Violet got out of her seat and went behind Buddy, peering over his shoulder. "…Wow," she said after a moment, "that looks complicated, but really interesting. How'd you come up with it?"

Buddy paused and glanced at her through the corner of his eye. She looked back down at him, her thin eyebrows quirking up in question, those beautiful, violet eyes of hers wide and shining.

"From nowhere," he said simply, turning back to his work. "Just sudden genius."

"I wish that would happen to me, that sudden genius of yours."

"Many people wish for it, my dear." He typed in a couple more ideas, and then pocketed his palm pilot, feeling much better now that he had gotten that ugly piece of work done with and out of the way.

"Finally, no more of that idiotic crap." He sighed with relief. "I'll give them the idea, plan the location, and get this damn prom done and over with so I can leave that annoying school."

Violet's eyes widened with surprise. "Wait, you're quitting?"

Buddy looked up at her and shrugged. "Yeah. I only worked there for one reason." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you remember why?"

She looked confused and her eyes narrowed in thought as she recalled her memories. It took her a moment, but when she realized what the answer was, her eyes widened slowly.

"Because you wanted to get to know me," she said quietly, the truth dawning.

He smiled at her, chuckled, and then stood up. "I think I've done that, so there's no point in hanging around any longer. I have what I want, and I don't need anything else." He turned to her, inwardly smirking at the embarrassed look on her face. "Now that we've eaten, I think I should give you a tour of the house. It only seems proper, considering the fact that you _will _be spending more time here."

Violet frowned at him. "Oh really? And it doesn't matter what I think about this, or how difficult it is going to be explaining to my parents the reason why I am leaving each and every day to go to some nameless man's house!"

Buddy paused, letting her words sink in. They made sense, at least at that point in time. Later, however…

"Violet," he said after a moment, "you _do _know that you're going to have to tell them about me eventually."

Apparently Violet _didn't _know that because she suddenly went very, very pale. This made Buddy both irritated and exasperated. Yet _another _blockade he was going to have to jump with her, and it was absolutely necessary that he did so. He had to make his name known to them. He had to associate himself with her for his plan to move forward. It was one thing to seduce Violet, but it was an entirely different matter messing with the minds of her family. She was a pawn in his plot, and if his opponent didn't know who was moving what, there was no point in playing the game.

Violet looked as if she was about to have a breakdown. He quickly held onto her shoulders and forced her chin up towards him. "Violet," he said evenly, "what did you expect to happen?"

Her mouth moved, but nothing came out. She swallowed and tried again. "I-I don't know what I thought," she stuttered. "I guess I just thought that we could keep it a secret forever…" She trailed off and bitterly smirked to herself. "God, that even sounds stupid to me."

"I'm not asking you to announce it to the world. In fact, I would much rather you wait to tell anyone about me until I'm no longer at that school. But, and you must understand this, for things to progress, people _are _going to have to find out about us. One way or another, it will happen."

She nodded. "I know."

He looked at her for a moment longer, making sure she actually did know, and then nodded, accepting her words. "But you don't have to worry about that right now. All you have to worry about is what direction you want to take the tour in."

Violet smiled at him and hooked her arm around his. "I think we should take the path of our last epic battle," she said teasingly, pointing to the spot where she had stripped. The memory made warmth bubble up inside of Buddy and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Of course. I'm sure you can lead the way."

Violet laughed and they walked out of the kitchen together, joking and teasing with each other in a playful, but innocent manner.

Syndrome absolutely loved it.


	16. Risky Business

A/N: A short Violet chapter, this one, but a long one is coming up. And let me re-literate how hard Violet chapters are to write. Ehem… Violet chapters are really hard to write. Thank you.

On another note, instead of writing an IMMENSELY long story (I outlined this thing, and it's estimated to be around 50 chapters), I'm going to split the plot into two stories so it's easier to manage. Nightshade Seduction will be about… well, the seduction, and the next story will be about the repercussions of the seduction. Yyyesss… :D

Oh, and I'm not on hiatus anymore! Yahoo!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Risky Business**

"_Trying to get away into the night, and then I put my arms around you and you tumble to the ground, oh, and then I say, I think we're alone now."_

"_I Think We're Alone Now," _by Massacre Birthday

* * *

It was late, past midnight, the sky dark, the stars themselves dim. The houses on the streets blended into the night, their normally vibrant colors dull and shadowed as the families inside slept, waiting for morning to come.

The Parr house was equally dark, equally silent. Jak Jak slept soundly, the ear of his stuffed bear covered in slobber as he chewed on it while he dreamed. Dash was sprawled all over his bed, his snores matching his father's whose rumbled through the house, completely masking Helen's small noises of sleep.

Everyone slept soundly without a care in the world. Everyone… except Violet.

Violet was not dreaming, was not slobbering, and was not snoring the pictures of the walls. Violet was putting on a pair of socks, and a jacket. She pulled out a pair of shoes from under her bed and quickly began sliding her feet into them and knotting them tight. On closer inspection, it even looked like she brushed her hair and even put on a little lip gloss.

Violet let out nervous, anxious laughter. Her stomach felt like it was going to fly right out of her throat, and her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She should have been used to the sensation now, seeing her body always did this when she snuck out after dark to go and spend the night with Buddy.

Then again, she loved the thrill of escape, the excitement. She never wanted to get used to the way her blood rushed through her body when she slid into the silent night. There was too much fun in it all, too much enjoyment. In fact, sneaking out made her wish to see Buddy even more…

_Even more…_

Violet knew she had promised to never get close to him, to never like him, to… She couldn't even remember anything else! All she knew right then and there was that she wanted to go and be with Buddy. There was no reason why, no explanations, just a desire.

And there is nothing more blatant than desire.

She tied her shoes tight, fixed her hair once more, and reached under her bed for the gadget Buddy had given her. It looked like a remote, nothing more, but when she pushed the power button, a perfect hologram of her appeared in her bed. She pressed the volume button a few times and the Other Violet's snore grew slightly louder. She then turned to her window and pressed mute. Smiling, she tucked the remote back under her bed. She went to the window and cautiously flicked the blinds.

Not a single sound came from them even though they were clearly clacking together.

Violet smiled again, but she didn't waste anymore time; the silencer wouldn't last much longer. She slid open her window; it moved without a sound. She stepped right through the screen on her window (Buddy had long since replaced it with a hologram). She landed outside with ease, shutting the window behind her.

_Flawless!_

She allowed herself a mental pat on the back before she disappeared from view, her footsteps the only thing heard as she ran away into the night.

* * *

The trip to Buddy's mansion was just like any other. His driver would pick her up at the bus stop and drive her up to the estate. They would chat amiably until they arrived. She'd get out and Miss Patterson would let her in. Then, she'd lead her to wherever Buddy was.

However, this night has one distinct difference.

"We're going to Buddy's lab?"

"Yes," replied Miss Patterson with a nod. "He's been rather busy with some new invention. He has requested your help."

"Requested my help?" Violet rolled her eyes; Buddy certainly knew how to make something so cool sound so boring, especially when it concerned him and 'help.'

"Do you know what it is?" asked Violet.

Miss Patterson shrugged. "No idea."

_Even better…_

They passed the kitchen, passed the garden, and went down a hallway that she had seen only once- and she had been nearly blind with fear and completely naked. Looking at it during a serene and clothed state made it seem less remarkable than last time.

"Here we are."

The secretary stopped at an empty space of wall. Violet, confused, look to her, then to the wall, and then back to her.

"There's nothing here," said Violet, doing a wonderful job at stating the obvious.

Miss Patterson smirked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am quite sure-"

Violet looked to the wall and found that a door had taken its place.

"…How'd the heck-?"

"I'm not allowed in, but the door will let you enter." Miss Patterson took a step back and nodded at the doorknob. "Go ahead."

Violet looked at her as if she were crazy, but Miss Patterson didn't flinch. Taking a breath, she hesitantly stepped forward, slowly reaching out and gently grasping the golden doorknob.

Immediately it glowed bright blue. Green and yellow lights traced the palm and pads of her hands and fingers. A little screen flickered above the doorknob, numbers going every which way until a small picture of her appeared along with a complete set of her prints and all sorts of information about her _she _didn't even know. A confirmation beep sounded through the room and then the door opened with click.

"Get in here before you let in anymore dust," said Buddy's voice from within the blackness of the room.

Violet swallowed, oddly nervous. She looked behind her to find some sort of comforting knowledge from Miss Patterson, but she had already left.

"Well? Are you coming in here or not?"

"Y-yeah! Hold on!" She took another breath and walked in, shutting the door behind her. Briefly, she couldn't see a thing, but then she realized that there was a small blue light in the distance, and hunched below it was Buddy.

He was frowning deeply down at a small black box. Small pieces and parts were scattered all over the work table and sheets of paper were littered everywhere. Buddy's normally combed back hair was in it's normal gravity-defying shape, only this time his hair stood out every which way, especially one little spot on the right side of his head. She watched him scratch his head in frustration and realized that was why his hair was so crazy looking.

"So…" said Violet, hoping she sounded as casual as possible, "what are you up to?"

"What does it _look _like I'm doing?" snapped Buddy. "I'm trying to build this freakin' hologram, but it keeps shorting out on me!" He picked up a small circuit board and threw it across the room. She couldn't see anything beyond the table, but by the range and volume of the echo, she knew that the lab had to be big.

_If this is what he's like when he's in the lab, I'd rather be at home sleeping._

She sighed softly; she'd just have to be careful.

"What kind of hologram are you making?" She walked towards him, catching a glance at some of the papers that were scattered across the floor. She picked one up, looking at it curiously.

"Are these… constellations?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, flicking a nearby screw off the table. "I'm trying to build this thing for your prom, but it's not working out." He pushed himself away from the table and got up out of his chair. His whole posture was tense and from the way he moved, he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"How long have you been at this?" asked Violet, deeply concerned for him.

He gave her a quick look, and then mumbled, "I've been in here since three."

Violet dropped the paper from shock. "You've been in here for _eleven hours?_"

"Three, _yesterday," _he corrected.

Violet gapped at him. "You're insane," she whispered, shaking his head at him. "You're absolutely insane! Have you even had anything to eat?"

Buddy opened his mouth to retort, but then his expression faded into one of uncertainty. "Wait… Did I have that sandwich?"

"That's it." Violet marched over to him and began to push him in the general direction of the lab door. "You're getting something to eat, and then we're going to bed."

"Wait a minute," he protested as she pushed him without pause, "I let you come in here for help! I can't just leave all of this here!"

"Yes you can because you are tired and hungry and I bet you that once you get a few hours of sleep, you'll wake up, come back in here, and figure out what's wrong in an instant." Violet nodded her head firmly. "I'd bet my left ear on it."

Buddy gave her a confused look. "Your left ear? Why in the world would you bet that?"

"It's just a saying!"

"People usually don't bet their left ear."

"Well I do!"

The door opened and both of them stumbled into the hall. He tried to get back into his lab, but Violet stood her ground and waited for the door to close. Buddy glared at her, but she merely pointed towards the kitchen.

"Alright, time to get you some food!"

* * *

One sandwich and a glass of orange juice later, they were up in his room. Buddy excused himself to take a shower, which was just fine with her. She needed to get into her pajamas anyway. So, while he washed away over a day's worth of stress sweat, she went into his hugely gigantic, superbly humongous closet and went to her own little piece of storage space and pulled out one of the two pajama pants she had left there. She pulled off her clothes, slid on the pants, and then searched the rest of his closet for a shirt to wear.

"No, no, no, no…" She skipped through all the dress shirts. "No… Oh!" She pulled a plain gray t-shirt from a drawer. Smiling, she pulled it over her head. Once it settled over her shoulders, she reached for the collar and brought it to her nose. She breathed in deeply, letting his soothing scent calm her senses. Hugging the shirt around her, she skipped out of the closet just in time to see Buddy step out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Violet, can you get me a pair of boxers out of my closet please? You know where they are." He gave her a quick wave and disappeared back into the bathroom; it was a small blessing for poor Violet who was still blushing like an idiot.

_I can never get tired of seeing him shirtless… _

She giggled, recalling the first time she saw him without a shirt on. It was on the first night she had snuck out to see him, only a few weeks ago. She hadn't known where he was, so while she waited for him, she had decided to brush her teeth because… Well, there were certain reasons why she wanted a clean mouth. It was these reasons that had distracted her from noticing that Buddy was inside the bathroom preparing to take a shower.

_Thank goodness he was still undressing himself or else I would have seen a _whole _lot more. _

After that incident, she made sure she was squeaky clean before she snuck out to see him.

_Boxers, boxers… _She went back into the closet to fetch them. They were folded neatly in the drawer next to her clothes. Blushing slightly, she retrieved a dark blue pair and left the closet to wait for Buddy to emerge.

Sitting alone in the dark, only the barest of light seeping out of the crack beneath the bathroom door, Violet began to think about how awkward it was to be holding Buddy's underwear, in the middle of the night, while she sat waiting anxiously on his bed. If someone had just walked in, they would have thought they were planning to do more than just sleep.

_Oh geez… _Violet blushed bright red at the thought. _How embarrassing._

Although… she couldn't exactly say the thought never crossed her mind—

"Violet!" The bathroom door opened and Buddy's hand emerged. "I need my underwear, thank you very much."

"Oh! Whoops." Violet rushed over and gave them to him, apologizing. "I totally forgot."

"Obviously." The door shut, but he continued to speak. "You should probably go to sleep."

"I'm waiting for you," said Violet quietly, looking back towards the large, comfortable bed, ignoring the fact she could fall asleep on her feet at that very moment.

"Wait for me in bed, then. Someone as young as you needs as much sleep as she can get."

"But…" She felt a bit offended that he was treating her so childishly, but he was right. She really should be in bed. It was late enough already. So, she reluctantly obeyed him and went over to the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding in, grumbling and fuming at him.

She fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

The first time Bob heard it, it had been earlier that week. It was a small, insignificant sound and he dismissed it as such. However, it continued to happen, and the more often it did, he began to think that perhaps it was more than just a bump in the night.

So, that night when he heard the softest sounds of movement, Bob shot up out of bed, determined to find it's source.

"Honey," murmured Helen, disturbed out of her sleep, "is something the matter?"

"No, dear, everything's fine." He leaned over and kissed the top of her bed head. "Now, go back to sleep."

She didn't have to be told twice. The day had been long and filled with countless stops around downtown. She plopped her head back down onto the pillow, rolling over and drifting back into dreamland, deeming it too early to care why her husband was up at midnight.

Bob, in his gray tank top and heart-covered boxers, went into spy mode. He crept out of his room and down the hall, halting to see if he could still hear the sound. The night remained silent, so he snuck forward, looking left and right, the floor creaking slightly under his weight.

_Creak… creak… creak... creak-_

There! The noise from before. It was coming from… Violet's room?

_What is she doing up this late? _He quietly went over to her door, carefully putting his ear up to the wood. Not hearing anything, he slowly opened the door and peered in.

Violet was soundly asleep, her small form cuddled deeply in her blanket. Bob was confused briefly, the source of the sound nowhere to be seen, but it passed and he decided to look elsewhere.

"Sorry, honey," he whispered, smiling at her before quietly shutting the door before he continued on in his search.

The hologram flickered silently in response.

* * *

"_I've never been to a football game before."_

_He looked at her with shock. "Really?"_

_She blushed slightly. "Yeah."_

"_Then you've never truly lived!" He put his arm around her, an effort that proved quite difficult considering the signature-covered cast surrounding his entire right arm. He pointed towards the field he had once told her was his second home. "Look. Despite the fact that their quarterback is destined for the NFL, their entire defense is shabby. All we need to do is break through and Eddie can run the ball for the touchdown."_

_Violet had no idea what he was talking about, and even though he was trying his best to point out who was doing what, she still couldn't follow it. _

"_I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him, "I don't understand any of it."_

_He chuckled. "It's okay. It's still fun to watch."_

_The ball was in motion and all of the players began to scramble around and tackle one another. It reminded her of a few skirmishes she had been in while working. But despite all of the cheering and the excitement as the boy named Eddie did exactly what her boyfriend had predicted, scoring a touchdown, the fan's blasting their horns-_

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

_-being at his side in his arms- cast or otherwise- was all that she needed._

_She sighed happily, nestling her face closer into his vest. "I love you."_

_He looked down at her, his bright blue eyes and fire red hair highlighted by the stadium lights, shining down upon him in a cynical fashion as the cheering fans began to drop like flies all around them, tumbling down the stands and into the pits of the volcano below._

"_I love you, too, Violet," he said, his voice strangely boyish and carefree before the sirens-_

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

_The sirens, the blood, the tarp, the last kick of the football, the cheering blurring, the lights slurring, the scoreboard rusting and falling apart as her beloved's once handsome face melts away, a grinning, evil skull staring at her._

"_I'll always love you."_

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Violet's eyes slowly opened, her blurred vision trying to register the flashing red numbers. She blinked a few times as her hand smacked the alarm clock, silencing the incessant beeping. The clock read 4:00 AM, just as it always did. And, just as always, she wondered why she put out so much effort to get to Buddy's house only to spend four hours with him.

"Uuurrg…" She rolled over in bed and into Buddy's arms. She felt his smirk and his eyes on the back of her head. "I'm never doing this again. I love sleep too much."

"Mhmm."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"No."

She wriggled a little out of annoyance. "Fine, don't believe me."

"Alright."

She smacked him on the chest. "Why must you irritate me so much?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

She smacked him again. "God, you are no help."

A pause, and then he shrugged.

"That's it!" She threw back the covers, ignoring his laughter. "There's no way I'd be able to go back to sleep now even if I wanted to." She adjusted her pajamas and fixed her hair and looked back at him, glaring. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but seeing him propped up on one arm, his marvelous chest bare and warm in the morning light, his amazing eyes filled with mischievous intent, she lost the ability to even frown at him.

So, she retreated, smacking herself mentally, his amused chuckles scorning her.

"Quiet, you! This isn't over!"

"Right," he said, rolling his eyes, getting out of bed. "We'll see."


	17. Dream a Dream

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Dream a Dream**

"_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you."_

"_Wicked Game," by H.I.M._

* * *

After Violet's departure that morning, Syndrome felt quite pleased with himself. Not only was the day of extracting his revenge honing in fast, he got to enjoy the physical pleasures of Violet's company. It was like having his cake and eating it, too.

"I do hope you haven't done anything too… drastic with that girl," said Miss Patterson as she gave him his morning coffee. "She's too young to be-"

"If you are wondering if I've had sex with her, the answer is no," he said easily as he sipped his coffee. "However, even if I had, it shouldn't be any concern to you. Your thoughts should be on our finances, not on my business with Violet."

"I understand, sir," said Miss Patterson, "but…" She spoke reluctantly. "She is a very nice girl."

He shot her a dark glare and she drew back, bowing. She had overstepped her boundaries, and considering how much leeway he gave her on a daily basis, she deserved the feeling of idiocy she felt for contradicting her boss.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Hn." He sipped his coffee again and walked away, leaving Miss Patterson to do her own business while he did his.

"Now," he said aloud, pushing the minor fight aside, "what is on today's agenda?"

He went to his lab, his precious space. Strolling in, he walked over to his desk and pushed all of his other projects aside, the hologram from the other night clattering to the ground with everything else. He spared it slight notice.

"What a total waste of time," he muttered under his breath, recalling the headache it had given him. "Completely ridiculous."

After glaring at the box for a second longer, he deemed the invention unworthy of his time and he looked away. Setting his coffee to the side, he brought up his keyboard, the keys flickering into existence on top of the desk. He accessed his computer, the screen flashing brightly in front of him. Typing in his password, he pulled up the designs for his gauntlet up, feeling immensely better once the projected image of his revenge flashed into existence.

"Only thing now is to make it pretty," he thought to himself aloud as he stood up and walked around the 3-D model, picking up different holographic parts and moving them to different areas. "A small insignia on the wrist, and perhaps a pleasing platinum sheen…" He laughed at his own personal joke as he typed in a few more numbers and letters and a nearby case hissed as it opened. He strode over the source of the noise, still chuckling. "Oh yes, perhaps orange! Or maybe a pretty purple!" He laughed some more as his completed invention suddenly appeared as the lights underneath turned on, highlighting the impressive hand-shaped weapon. He picked it up and slid it over his arm, his grin growing dark and toothy as he admired it, the metal glinting, mimicking the way his eyes shone when he executed his enemies.

"It's a shame I cannot test you out now," he said, imagining what the perfect scenario would be, a certain superhero begging him to end his suffering. "But I'm afraid the world is not yet ready for you… Not yet."

With a small feeling of reluctance, he placed the gauntlet carefully back on it's pedestal and sealed it back up. He patted it affectionately, and then he left it to go and work on the ever elusive hologram for the prom.

"Ridiculous!" he spouted again angrily, picking up the black box and glaring at it. "Why must this trifle invention bother me so much?"

The black box remained silent and offered no answer.

He glared at it some more, turned it around in his hands, and glared at it again. The intensity of his glare was so great, it only took a few more seconds of this amazing hatred to spot the small flaw that caused him so much trouble.

"Oh," he said dumbly, feeling rather stupid. It caused him to curse as he angrily sat down at his chair and snatched up his soldering gun, fixing the problem that had caused him so many headaches within a few seconds.

"How in the world could I have missed something like this?" he grumbled to himself, shoving the now completed hologram far away from him. "I swear I have no idea where my brain's been."

Lately Buddy had been facing many problems like this. He forgot important meetings, misplaced countless graded papers, and electrocuted himself multiple times completing simple scientific tasks. All of it was quickly stacking up against him and this little incident was the catalyst that finally forced him to accept the fact that he was acting like an idiot because his thoughts were distracted by Violet.

"I don't get it!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. "I thought I had control over this!"

All this extra time they've been spending together outside of school must've been the cause of it all. The only good thing that was coming out of this mess was that Violet was totally and completely oblivious to his plans. He would bet his entire estate that any second thoughts about him were completely wiped away.

"Yes," he murmured, relaxing slightly, "at least there is still the seduction."

But his mentor had never told him that seducing a woman would have affects on _him. _Did he purposely leave out that information? Or was Buddy just weak?

_Weak… Me? Am I really losing myself to… to _her_?_

"No," he said sharply, "I am not weak." He glared as he plopped down in his seat, staring down at his reflection in his work table- a reflection that suddenly began to laugh at him, a sly smile on his face as he continued to chuckle.

"_You like the girl, Buddy. Just admit it."_

Syndrome snorted and looked away, pushing papers in the way of his scornful image. "Ridiculous," he murmured again, his mood just as foul as his tone. "I do not like that irritating girl…"

And yet… the voice stuck in his head, and it stayed there all that day until he went to bed. It was only until he was fast asleep that the simple little words nestled themselves in the back of his mind, simply waiting for the right time to make another appearance.

* * *

Buddy sat at his desk, staring at the clock as he waded through mind-numbing tests, entering the grades into his computer absent-mindedly as his thoughts drifted up and away from anything school related.

_I wonder when Bomb Voyage is going to return my message. I'm cutting it as close as I can as it is._

Tick.

_I'm going to have to make reservations later on tonight, even if he can't give me a yes or a no._

Tock.

_I don't have to worry about them showing up. They have an irritating way of appearing at the peak of evil._

Tick…

Buddy glared up at the ever mocking clock.

_Move faster._

Tock…

It would never obey him, no matter how incredibly sinister he was, so he decided to look over the students again. There they were, bent over their tests, scribbling madly away as they tried to figure out how chemical formulas and air pressure and whatever else Buddy had thrown into it. Apparently it was hard; the look on most of their faces was that of sickness.

_At least, _he thought as he looked over at Violet who was quietly writing in her notebook, her completed test sitting beside her, _Violet finished._

Then again, if she hadn't finished, especially after she had forcibly made him help her study, he would have been incredibly surprised. Not concerned- he didn't care if she was an A student or a hopeless cause- just surprised.

_I think she's supposed to come over today… Yes? I don't remember. _

Tick.

He sighed heavily, pushing the completed tests aside. He pulled out his palm pilot and searched through his messages, leaning his chin in one hand as he did so. Nothing new, of course.

Tock.

_Three more days until the blasted school prom, and then I'm home free…_

That thought cheered him up considerably, despite the fact that it was related to this children prison. He had to talk to Miss Patterson again and see if she had everything under control when it came to decorations. He needed to double check with the catering service the students had picked out, and the prom committee had to be notified about the band that was scheduled to come--

_BRRRIIIINNNNGGG!_

The room suddenly burst to life as backpacks were thrown over shoulders and kids started chatting to one other, most of them complaining about how hard the test was. Papers began to stack on his desk, very few of them taking any effort to put them into a proper pile. A quick glace at them and Buddy knew that he'd probably have to buy a new red pen after all the marking he was going to have to do.

_Fantastic. Even more work. God, this teacher business is awful. I'm never going to do it again, no matter how much I hate somebody._

A familiar smell made his bad thoughts drift away. He looked up at a familiar face, her intensely colored violet eyes slightly tired.

_All this back and forth stuff between her house and mine must be taking a lot out of her._

"Here," she said, placing her paper atop of the so-called pile. "I just thought I'd let you know that without your help, I probably would have flunked that."

"You all have the notes. You just have to study them." He began to stack them properly.

"Yeah, but your notes are all equations. You need to break them down in terms we can all understand." She was moving behind his desk, her backpack sliding off her shoulder. As she approached him, he couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Everyone is free to come in here and ask for help," said Buddy, ignoring how Violet slid her arms around him from behind, sighing softly as she nestled her face in his hair.

"You're really intimidating when we're all in a group," she said with a slight giggle. "I don't think anyone has the guts to talk to you alone."

_You have a point there._

But he didn't tell her that. He wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

"If they really, truly cared about their grade, they'd learn to suck it up and come in for help."

She shrugged. "Fine, Buddy. Whatever you say."

"There ya go."

She shook her head and pulled away from him. He was still stacking and arranging tests. "I'll be over later then. Four, right?"

_Oh yeah, that's right. We're having lobster tonight._

"Yeah."

She gave him a confused, curious look. He caught it and returned it.

"What?"

She paused for a moment before speaking. "Is… Is there something the matter?"

"Huh?" The question caught him off guard.

_Is there something wrong with me? What would make her think that there's something wrong with me? Cause there isn't anything wrong with me! Or is there?_

"Why do you say that?" he asked evenly.

"Well, you're not talking as much today," she said, almost thinking to herself as she spoke, "and I'm positive that your devilish behavior has lost a bit of it's punch. And you were so stiff when I approached you…" Her eyes grew concerned. "Did I do something to upset you?"

_I was stiff? _He tried to recall. _I wasn't… was I?_

Then, just like they had planned, the words from before happily skipped to the forefront of his mind and waggled themselves all over his highly irritated brain.

_Yes, there's that little issue…_

"I have a lot on my mind," he said stiffly, stacking and re-arranging the tests even though they were already how he wanted them. "It's none of your concern."

Violet seemed hurt, but even if he had bothered to care, he wouldn't have been able to catch it again. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," he said quickly, almost sharply. "Now go along. You're going to be late-"

_BRRRIIINNNNGG!_

He let out an irritable growl as he reached for a sticky note and scrawled an excuse for Violet. He hated doing these, especially since they happened more often then they should have. If he had been principal at this idiotic school, he would have noticed a trend by the fourth note.

"Go," he said again, his tone curt and stern. "I'll see you at four."

Violet looked nervous initially and a little sad and uncertain, but something he said cheered her up considerably. She took the note with a smile, nodded at him, and left, giving him one last look before disappearing out the door.

When she left, he let out a huge breath he had apparently held in. His whole body sagged into his chair, all his muscles cramped from being stiff for so long.

_Dammit, _he thought with a tired curse, _I don't need this…_

* * *

"I can't believe you created this."

"I can't believe it either."

Violet stretched her hand out, trying to see if she could pluck one of the shining stars out of the air. One floated her way and she grabbed for it, but her hand went right through it, the star flickering briefly before returning to its original shape. She looked around her to admire the rest of the sparkling sky that filled the main hall of Buddy's mansion, oohing when a shimmer of light streaked across the ceiling, a trail of sparkles chasing after it. Buddy watched her in all her childlike wonder, a small smile hidden on his lips.

"Really, Buddy," she said, awed, "this is amazing!"

Buddy frowned, looking as if he had eaten something particularly sour. "This better not get out to my business partners…"

Violet smirked and turned to him, looking up at him coyly. "Aww, somebody embarrassed?"

Buddy glared at her and turned away. He felt his cheeks begin to turn red and he prayed that the darkness of the room hid his unwelcome embarrassment. "Supervillains shouldn't be capable of creating something 'pretty.'"

"Well why not? I've seen plenty of evil bases with amazing architecture, and their costumes are always very creative."

"But not pretty."

"This is more than just pretty, Buddy! Look at this!" She gestured around her. "Do you realize how helpful this can be for, let's say, an astrologist? You could plot stars and coordinates and… and all sorts of stuff!"

He gave her an unenthused look. He didn't give a damn how 'helpful' his invention could be. The bottom line was that he, Syndrome, master of evil, had created a theme for a prom- a theme called Twilight Memories. Masters of evil don't do things like that!

_I'm never going to forgive myself. Never, never, never…_

And he knew why he had such a girly, innocent, lovey-dovey idea had forced it's way into his head, and that singular reason was standing in front of him, looking up at him curiously. He tried to force more anger and frustration into his gaze, hoping she would take the hint and turn away.

She turned away. Lucky him. But she had a look in her eyes that told him she would end up bringing it up later on.

_Oh goodie._

"I can't believe prom is only in three days," said Violet as she began to wander around near the big dipper. "And then it's summer… This year sure has flown by pretty fast."

"Mmm."

She looked back at him. "Are you just going to stand there sulking because your brain isn't entirely about blood and mayhem?"

He didn't move. "I'm considering it." He turned and mumbled, "I have to destroy the designs for the hologram before it gets out that I made this thing…"

"Just don't destroy the hologram itself," piped in Violet, ignoring the sharp look he gave her. "In fact, after you're done with it, I'd like to have it for my room."

"You'd want this in your room?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I… I don't know."

And he didn't know! Why would he anyway? He didn't stalk women and watch them in their sleep—

_Oh wait…_

Okay, he only did that _once, _but he didn't take notes or anything. He had been on a mission. He didn't stop to think about what was in her room or oh-my-goodness-that-bedspread-is-so-cute nonsense that all the female talk show hosts gabble on about. So he had ever right to not know, and just because she was looking at him now with suppressed laughter didn't mean that he had to prove anything.

_Stop looking at me like that. Just take the damn hologram and _stop looking at me like that!

She strode over to him and looked up with a grin. He frowned in return.

"What?" he growled.

She giggled and shook her head. "Nothing." She cocked her head to one side. "Have you decided on a location?"

_Ah, a change in topic. Thank you._

He shrugged. "I'm not dealing with that. Everything else is up to Emily."

"Miss Patterson?"

"Yeah. I gave her an overall idea-"

"And what did she think about it?"

His frowned deepened and he turned his head away again. "She didn't say anything… but I swore I heard her call me a softy when she left my office." He glanced at her sidelong. "And I think she thinks it's because of you."

Violet lit up from embarrassment. "She said that?"

He shrugged a little.

"Well… What do you think?"

He gave her a peculiar look. "What do I think what?"

"Do you think it's because of me?"

He snorted and looked away. "No."

_Yes, I think that's most definitely the reason why I'm turning into a wuss._

She regarded him curiously. "You do that a lot."

"Do what a lot?"

"Look away when you get embarrassed."

He crossed his arms and glared at the hologram. "I do not."

"There! You just did it again!"

He shot her a look. "Stop analyzing me."

"Why? You do it all the time to everybody else, including me."

"That doesn't mean _you_ can."

She sighed and shook her head at him. He knew he had to be irritating her, but he didn't care. It was about time that _she _was irritated once and he was the one laughing at her, relishing the victory—

She launched herself at him, coming in from behind and throwing her arms around him, leaping up and kissing his cheek. He jumped and looked back at her, stunned. She returned his shocked gaze with a cheeky grin.

_Alright… _

It was about that that _she _was the one who openly embraced him and he was the one that had to sit back and let everything wonderful and acceptable fall into place…

"Yes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You need to relax."

"Relax, hm?" His expression became sly. "Relax… You know, my bed is rather comfortable…"

She slapped him. "Buddy Pine! Don't you dare-" and then she trailed off into a shriek when he grabbed onto her side and pulled her around, embracing her and locking her to his chest.

"Don't be like that," he murmured with a chuckle, "you know you like it."

She blushed bright red, but she didn't rebuke him.

They stood there amongst the floating stars, shimmers drifting around them like magical snow. If there had been music, it would have looked like they were dancing, holding each other close as they slowly moved to the gentle beat… But that was just a fantasy, not reality. The truth was he'd never get to do something like dance with her.

_Especially at her prom._

But, if he wasn't going to be at her side that night, then who was?

Buddy cleared his throat to speak; his voice had been stifled by a sour taste in his mouth.

"Who's your date going to be?" he asked casually, finding extreme interest in a small, floating star.

Violet stiffened in his arms so strongly that it nearly startled him. He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation as to why she seemed to look sick.

"I-I don't… I don't have a date," she murmured. She dropped her head, hiding what he knew had to be a look of shame. He could practically taste it in the air. "No one asked me…"

"No one asked you?" His eyes widened with genuine surprise. "No one asked _you?_" He snorted and looked away, murmuring distractedly , "That only proves that place is full of imbeciles."

Violet's head jerked up, her eyes wide, a slight blush on her cheeks. "W-What'd you just say?"

_If I was ten years younger, I'd-_

Oh. She was speaking to him.

"Hn?"

"What did you just say?" she asked again, appearing to be in a much better mood.

_When did that happen?_

"I don't know," he mumbled, genuinely confused.

She pouted a little, but whatever he _did _say seemed to satisfy her. "Well," she said with a smile, "I don't need a date anyway. It's only my junior year. I have all of next year to find a date."

"Yeah," he nodded, accepting the feeling of relief and satisfaction he felt when he realized she was dateless, "all of next year."

_I nearly forgot. She's only a junior. She's going to have to take care of her studies in a different manner next year…_

"You _are _going though, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, with some friends. I have a dress picked out and everything."

"Good for you." He yawned. All of this kind of chatter was boring him now. He pulled away, yawning again. "Damn, I'm tired, and I still have a lot of work to do." He strode over to the hologram and picked it up. All of the stars jerked around wildly, momentarily confusing him to the point of a headache. He tapped it, and suddenly the whole room was plunged into darkness.

"Light," he commanded clearly.

And just as soon as they had disappeared, the lights were back on and blaring brightly. Both Violet and Buddy winced slightly, their eyes taking a moment to adjust.

"You could have given me warning," complained Violet as she stumbled towards the general direction Buddy was heading in. "That hurt!"

"You're fine," said Buddy without sympathy. He went into a nearby office room- Miss Patterson's office room, if he remembered correctly- and placed the box on the computer desk.

_She'd better get off my back now. _

"So," said Violet, coming up from behind, "you were able to book the entire Metroville Performing Arts Center for the prom?"

"Yes," he said, turning towards her. "Is that such a surprise?"

"Well, it is really pricey."

He laughed heartily, coming up to her and kissing her in the middle of her forehead. Her brow creased and she wrinkled her nose at him; she hated it when he did. That's why he liked to do it.

"Money is of no concern in my life," he said with a smirk. "I have an unlimited budget."

"Even after your imprisonment?"

Buddy's eyes shot open; he was completely stunned that she had actually brought that horrible part of his life up. Apparently she knew how badly she had screwed up; Violet's eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

_She didn't mean to say it, _thought Buddy with a snarl, _she didn't mean it, so don't get angry with her… Don't kill her… You need her, don't kill her…!_

"Yes," he said slowly with great control, "even after my… imprisonment."

"Oh…" She trailed off and looked down at her feet, finding them extremely fascinating. Good for her.

"You'd better get going. And don't plan on sneaking over tonight. You look like you're about to pass out on your feet."

She nodded and he led her down to the front door. Once there, they stood together in awkward silence. Violet shifted back and forth on her feet, too embarrassed to look up at him. Personally, he didn't care how bad she felt- she deserved it for making him remember his moment of failure.

_But then again, I can't let her leave in a foul mood._

He placed both of his hands on either of her shoulders. She looked up at him, revealing sad, slightly frightened eyes.

"I'm so-"

He cut her off with a solid kiss, stealing her breath and silencing her words. He held her there for the longest time, waiting until he could feel her relax under his mouth, all of the tension draining from her and out of their kiss.

"Now go," he said quietly as he pulled away, smirking slightly at the dazed look on her face.

"Right…" She nodded, a goofy smile on her face. She went to the door and opened it, looking back at him with her puffy pink grin. But just when he thought she was going to leave, she raced back to him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him soundly, pulling back with a loud _smack!_

"Thank you," she said breathlessly before she pulled away once more and disappeared out the door, leaving Buddy alone and very startled.

_Oh… Okay then…_

"You're welcome," he mumbled, turning around slowly. He paused- a small moment of reflection, his hand coming up to brush against his lips- and then he shook himself, scoffing at his stupidity before he stormed off to his room to try and do something to distract his traitorous mind.

* * *

_He was dressed for a night on the town, his hair nicely done, his suit crisp, and a bundle of red, red roses were in his arms. The city was gray and soft, snow falling from the sky. Everything seemed to be a little grainy, like an old time film. Indeed, all of the blaring sounds of the lively city weren't as clear and seemed to be a little harsh on the edges. Still, the vibrancy of the world around him wasn't lost. In fact, everything seemed to be more romantic in nature._

"_I hope she won't be late," he found himself saying, his voice full of giddy excitement. "We don't want to miss the movie!"_

What the hell?

_He reached the stoplight where everyone else was huddled, waiting for the okay to cross. As he waited, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he smiled down at the beautiful face staring back at him._

What? I can't even tell who it is, it's too blurry…

_He kissed it and put it back into the back of his pants, patting it where it sat safely. "Just a little longer, darling." His smile grew even bigger, almost flighty when he reached into his pocket and fingered the small, black, leather box resting in the depths of his pocket. "Just a little longer until we can begin the best night of our lives!"_

_The cars stopped and everyone began to move, feet sloshing against the cold slurry on the ground. He did his best to avoid the deeper puddles, not wanting to ruin his brand new shoes, but even when his foot did stumbled into one of those awful slush piles, his high spirits didn't fall. His mind was set, his heart beating fast, his eyes sparkling with the knowledge that this _would_ be the most magical night of his- _their- _lives._

_He arrived at the theatre, standing alone amongst the other couples huddled together for warmth, their hot, cloudy breath wafting upwards like a living train. He looked worriedly at his watch, watching and waiting anxiously for his love to arrive._

My _what?_

_He waited patiently for a while, but as more time passed, and people began to file into the theatre, his anxiety grew and grew until he was pacing, wet snow dirtying the edges of his pants, his hand running through his hair, mussing it up without a second thought._

"_Where are you?" he murmured with nervousness, his eyes fretfully dancing across the road and the cars humming on by. "You should have been have been here an hour ago…"_

_A pang of hurt hit his heart. She hadn't… abandoned him?_

Of course she abandoned you, you idiot. They always do…

_No. No, that made absolutely no sense. They were in love, totally and absolutely. Nothing in the world could keep her away from him. _

_So then… Where was she?_

_Something caught his attention in the corner of his eye- a flash of some sort. Colors, familiar colors. He saw them all the time from his small apartment window when he went off to bed in the wee hours of the morning._

_A cold, desperate feeling tightened in his chest. He suddenly began to feel very sick._

"_It couldn't be…" He walked forward; he was only going to check it out. He wasn't going there to see if…_

_His shoes splashed in the slurry, his eyes focused on the red and blue flashing lights he had seen from afar. They were around the corner of the theatre, the wall of the general store on the other side of the street turning red, to a cold blue, and back to red. He turned the corner._

"_Back it up! Get out of the way!" It was a policeman waving down cars, signaling them to go the other way. An ambulance was parked next to two cars- or at least they were cars, once upon a time. Right then, they looked like two mutilated messes, scraps of metal merged and twisted together, glass littering the ground, sparkling and reflecting the lights of the emergency vehicles._

"_Oh, the poor dear," whispered an elderly woman beside him as she dabbed the corner of her eyes with a white handkerchief. "She was so young, too…"_

_He only half heard her, but even that was enough to make him walk forward, pushing past the crowd, slipping through it as the emergency staff began to pull out the white sheet._

"_Announced dead at 10:47," he heard the man murmur just as he reached the front of the crowd._

_He stopped, his foot crunching on broken glass. He stared._

_Shards of metal… A stray purse… A fragile, pale hand… Hair like raven's feathers… Eyes like pieces of twilight sky…_

…That's…

_The bundle of roses fell from his arm, crashing to the ground, their soft petals blending with the stained crimson snow. _

"_No…" He couldn't hold himself up. He fell to his knees, his vision blurring. It didn't matter; they were covering her up. He wouldn't be able to see her anymore anyway._

_He felt a strong hand on his back. "Do you know this young woman?" said the unknown man._

_He nodded, and continued to nod even when the man continued to ask more questions._

"_So you can identify her for us then?"_

_Of course he could. He could tell him where she was born, what her favorite band was, what her favorite food was, when her first kiss was…_

"_Her name…" He stood up, ignoring how wet his eyes were, or the pitying looks the bystanders were giving him. "Her name…" He went over to her body, kneeling down and cradling her carefully, bending his head low, shoulders shaking._

_It's… Violet-_

_She sat up, the sheet falling from her shattered face, her pale, broken smile full of blood and beautifully tempered kindness._

"_Violet," she said with a masculine voice, a familiar voice, a voice that was coming out of his throat as he slammed his foot on the gas pedal, clutching onto the steering wheel as he screamed maniacally._

"_VIOLET!"_

_She stops in the middle of the road, turning towards him, everything move oh so slowly; the headlights of his car blind her, but she stares forward, still ignorant to her death hurtling towards her; a smile is on her face, she can only see him, not the darkness, not the malice, not the tainted fury that makes him push the pedal to the floor, raising a cackle from his throat as he slams into her…_

It was all a mistake…

_He brushes a hand across her bleeding forehead, clicking his tongue at her. "You're so blind, my love," he whispers, kissing her as softly as the wings he has torn from her. Yes, so blind. So blind-_

_-it's all a mistake, a misunderstanding. He never meant it-_

_-knees down in the snow, stained sheet floating down-_

_-seatbelt hugging his chest, his eyes hot with malice and victory-_

_-her ever pitying, wonderful, beautiful smile broken and shattered-_

_-pinned ever so neatly against him, dying, always dying, but still so beautiful…_

_She holds him close, kissing him lightly before falling into dust in his hands, a whisper on the wind of his vendetta…_

"_I love you."_


	18. What He Means

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: What He Means**

"_Pick your favorite shade of black, you best prepare a speech… But don't say that you love me."_

"_I'm Still Breathing," by Katy Perry_

* * *

_She was running._

Mustn't… look… back…

_Her legs hurt. A lot. And her feet were completely numb. She's been running for a long time._

Why… am I running…?

_To get away from something? Yes, that had to be it. There was so much fear in her heart, as if something dark and sinister was looming up behind her, threatening to grab a hold of her and shake her to pieces._

Can't… breathe…

_Determination burned in her soul, but she was so tired… and so afraid… God, she couldn't keep this up._

"_But then- I won't make it in time!!"_

What?

_Yes, oh God she had to keep running. If she didn't make it in time, then he'd—_

_-a strange breeze, a floating curtain turning solid, black, wooden-_

_-sirens blaring, blue plastic taking over for a warm blanket-_

That's…

"_Buddy, please! Be alright!"_

_She pushed past the blurred faces, launching herself forward and into the arms of her groom, his confident smirk pinning her as he slowly lifted her veil-_

_-a veil made of darkness, of tears, of sorrow-_

_-and he leaned forward, everyone on their feet as they waited with bated breath for him to come closer, his lips coming down upon hers, tasting of delicious poison-_

I… can't breathe…

_Her feet hurt. Her feet hurt so much. She keeps on running, her dress falling around her in tatters. They disappear behind her, dissolving away until she is completely naked-_

Can't… breathe—

_--surrounded in a delicious warmth, hands roaming across her bath, a pair of soft lips caressing her sensitive skin. She tries to inhale-_

-can't breath, can't breathe-

_-but the downward trail of his damned hand causes her feet to go numb again with pleasure, her legs aching as everything begins to climb together. She clutches onto the sheets, her nails digging into it's rough texture, fingers full of the blue plastic. Everything is spinning, spinning-_

"_Everything will be alright," he whispers as he kisses her soundly, drawing her eyes towards them, the men looming over the faceless body-_

_-a body with broken, sorrow-struck eyes, reaching out for her just as she is reaching out for him; her mouth opens, her bleeding tear dripping down into the pool of red beneath her dying form…_

"_Don't go…"_

_She feels her wedding ring slip over her finger._

"_But I must. I… I…"_

BVVT.

"_I love-"_

BVVT.

_She looks at him, he looks at her. He holds her close, his sky blue gaze reaching into her heart and pulling it out of her throat. He opens his mouth, her beating love just barely touching his pallet like sweet, sweet ambrosia…_

BVVT.

BVVT.

_BVVT BVVT BVVT BVVT-_

"NO!"

Violet shot out of bed, her hair sticking up as she wildly looked around, her fingers twitching slightly against her sheets. She could still feel the cold, rough texture of the tarp in her dream.

_It was… so real…_

But as she began to grasp for more details, they slipped from her fingers, like silver fish that faded into weightless wisps, fading into the forgotten realms of her mind, a place that she could never retrieve anything from. But even though she was quickly forgetting what had happened, her she could still feel a cold sense of dread left behind from her dream.

_My entirely screwed up nightmare to be exact… No more jalapeno jam before bed._

She could still hear the thing that had ripped her out of her dream. It was clacking rather loudly against something somewhere. She flicked on the lamp beside her bed, her eyes slamming shut, stinging from the offending light. She got off of her bed with a flop, the haze of sleep and the confusion of her quickly fading dream fogging up her ability to feel caution. She blindly reached around for the vibrating portable phone Buddy had given to her some weeks ago (it was amazing what kind of technology he could get his hands on; even her communicator didn't compare to this). After flinging clothes aside and crawling under furniture, she was able to find the irritating piece of technology deep underneath her bed, surviving with only a bump on the noggin. She looked down at the phone in her hands with a bleary-eyed glare. At this point, the dream was forgotten and all she could think about was getting back to bed.

_But apparently Buddy doesn't believe in sleep, _she thought sarcastically as she pressed the send button with a pout.

"What?" she grumbled, sitting down on the floor, ignoring the giant goose egg that was growing with rapid size on top of her head. Most of her attention was focused on her alarm clock.

_Three in the morning… The first time he uses this "emergency line" is at three in the morning… It better be good._

She opened her mouth to scold him, but three simple words from him shut her right up.

"Are you alright?"

Violet's eyes shot wide open. She nearly dropped the phone, fumbling with it until she caught it and clutched it to her chest. She stared down at the floor, her expression thoroughly confused.

_What the-?_

The agitation in his voice grew more frantic. "Violet? Hey! Dammit, say something!"

Violet remained still, her wide eyes pinned to the floor. The phone remained clutched to her, her fingers frozen around it, numb, questions of confusion playing across her face and mind.

_What's… going on…?_

"Violet!"

This… didn't make any sense. Buddy was a symbol of strength, of power, of unlimited knowledge and funds. Buddy was a figure of unshakable determination and authority. It was the quality about him that made him so attracting.

So then, why was this man of ultimate supremacy and domination… sounding so scared?

Violet's breathing was slow, almost to the point of death, but her heart was thudding rapidly in her chest. She could barely hear the frantic calls from the phone, her thoughts scattered and in pieces. She couldn't think, not when he sounded so frightened. It was impossible. If _he_ was frightened, the man who stood so soundly in her heart, grasping onto her emotions with a confidence that melted her… How could she ever possibly escape the same fear?

His influence was wrapped so firmly around her mind, her feelings… It wasn't a surprise that Buddy's own fear began to course through her veins. But it was strange. Fear was cold, fear was frightening, but… but this feeling… it made her feel so… so _alive. _So _warm. _It flooded her, loosening her muscles, seeped into her bones, recalling the newborn memories of his anxious question.

_Are you alright?_

The man of doom. The patriarch of dominance. The ultimate figure of unbreakable, unshakable power… had fractured because of _her._

_He _was _afraid _for _her._

A delighted blush ran across her cheeks and she smiled, moving the phone up to her ear, her voice a warm whisper.

"I'm fine, Buddy."

She heard a sigh of relief on the other side of the phone, but when she thought he was going to speak, a long, almost awkward silence fell. She thought she could hear movement, and perhaps the barest of murmurs.

_Did he just say 'Donuts are in it?'_

"Buddy? Are you still there?"

More noise, a little bit of shifting, and she finally heard Buddy's gruff voice on the other end.

"Yeah, I'm here."

He didn't say anything more. The ending result was more awkward silence.

"Um…" Violet shifted slightly, leaning her head against her bed, staring down at the floor, her blush still clear, even in the nightlight. "Buddy… Why did you call?"

She heard him take in a sharp breathe.

"Uhm… Ehem."

Violet's eyebrows shot up in shock. She blinked a couple of times, mind processing.

_Is he… embarrassed?_

A smile began to grow rapidly on her lips, her cheeks a pleasant pink.

"Yes?" she urged.

"I just…" He cleared his throat again, and this time his voice was controlled and natural. "It's nothing. A mistake on my part. Go back to bed."

Violet looked down at the phone, aghast. She scoffed. "Hey, wait a minute! You're the one who woke me up!"

"Violet, go back to bed-"

"No! You said this phone was for emergencies only. Why did you call me?" She recalled his earlier fear, and it rushed into her mind like cold ice. "Is there something the matter?"

She could almost see his irritated look. "No, I told you, it was a mistake that I called you."

"What prompted it, then?"

"N- wh- uh…" He growled a little. "Violet, just drop it!"

"No," she said with conviction, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder and crossing her arms angrily. "Tell me!"

"It's too early to be arguing!"

"That's your fault, buster, not mine."

"The name's _Buddy._"

"Just tell me."

"_No."_

Violet nearly screamed, but she suddenly remembered in one giant, irritating flood that it was _three in the morning_ and _her family was all asleep_ and it wouldn't be very good if she woke them up from her shrill of anger because she was _talking to Buddy with a weird portable phone…_ So she shoved her face into the side of her bed and let out an aggravated shriek, her mattress completely muffling the sound. Tearing her head back, she grabbed onto the phone and shook it, wishing it was Buddy's neck.

"Buddy!"

"Don't test my patience!" he barked, startling her slightly, but not diminishing her irritation. "I told you, it's a stupid reason. I'm not in the mood to make myself feel like an even bigger idiot."

She huffed, "Like I care."

"Go to bed."

"No!"

"I'm not telling you."

Violet's eye twitched. She was at the end of her patience. She decided to do the only thing she could do.

"Buddy! You are going to tell me why you woke me up in the middle of the morning right now because if you don't… if you don't I… I…!" She grabbed the first threat that popped into her sleep-deprived mind. "I won't come over to your house ever again!"

She huffed again, waiting for him to snap back at her. Nothing came. Violet looked curiously down at the portable phone.

_Did I… win?_

Her thoughts were interrupted. He suddenly began to speak once more.

"Violet," he said slowly, "are you actually _threatening me _by saying you won't come over to my house?_"_

Violet nodded firmly. "Yes I am!"

"…Really?"

"Really."

Another silence fell, but this one wasn't awkward. No, in fact, it was very similar. It was like the silences that came between them when he practically bore into her soul with a single gaze. It was one of those infuriating moments he shared with her, moments decorated by a dark quirk of his lips, his expression always playful, almost mocking.

Violet frowned deeply. She shouldn't have threatened him with something so trivial.

He was laughing at her, and it stung. Bad.

"Alright, little girl," chuckled Buddy, "you go to bed now. Nighty night."

Her eyes shot open and she shook the phone even more, nearly causing it to fall to pieces. "No! Buddy, don't you even-!!"

_Click._

Violet gaped, the sound of silence oddly loud in her ear.

_He… hung up on me…_

She slowly put down the phone, in shock, but it wasn't long before that same shock faded into anger and frustration, not only with him, but with herself. She had shown her age to him very clearly, and when that happened, he never treated her with the respect she wanted.

_Like I would deserve it after a stupid threat like that._

She fumed and huffed for quite a while, but eventually that dimmed into an emotion very familiar with her as of late: embarrassment. She could feel even a bit of shame.

_I'm so pathetic._

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. She _threatened_ him? By saying she wouldn't _see him?_ Not only was it ridiculous, it wasn't something she couldn't ever carry out, even if it was as intimidating as she had hoped it would be.

"It wouldn't work," she said grumpily to herself, "because it works the other way around." She fisted her hands against her cheeks, and the words spilled out of her pouting lips, sloshing and fumbling with each and every letter. "_I _need _him._"

What a horrible truth to admit! It only made her stomach turn. She'd fallen so far from her initial thoughts about him. She had promised herself that she would never let this happen. She had sworn she would beat him at his own game. She would discover what his scheming mind was up to!

But now… Now she didn't care. She didn't care about what he did or was going to do. All of that was meaningless to her. All she cared about was _him. _Just him, as human, as man, as… as…

_As my… _

She let out a terrible groan, one that was filled with all sorts of dark, conflicting emotions, falling down on her side, reaching out for her blanket in the process. Her sheets and comforters tumbled down and she tucked them all around her, a cocoon that sealed in all of her shameful- and yet exhilarating- thoughts, keeping them far from everyone else.

She laid there inside of her blankets, her view a deep reddish color from the lamp and the color of her blanket. She could hear her heartbeat and breath, and it was all very loud, but most of all she could hear her own thoughts. She had sought this kind of silence for a long time, and it was her luck that her soft flannel covers could offer her that.

This wasn't the first time she had done something like this. She remembered when she was younger, she would make forts out of her blankets. Sometimes they would be a family effort and they'd span the entire living room. They'd even eat dinner under their floral sheets, her dad not at all ashamed his assigned 'room' was composed of her Polly Dolly blanket. But even beyond that, only a few years ago, she'd wrap herself up and just sit there. It felt so good to be surrounded by something so comfortable and warm, and when Tony had- had died, she hadn't had anything else.

Her thumb brushed softly against her scarred wrist before gently slipping away to tuck her hand underneath her cheek as she stared off meditatively. "But now… maybe I do."

He had sounded so scared, and it was for her. She had never thought him to be capable of something like that. He had a giant ego and even when somebody was in danger, if it wasn't in his best interests to help them, he wasn't going to lift a pinky. And for some reason, she accepted that.

But this… This was _not _the Buddy she knew.

_Why? What happened? _Her brow creased as she began to think. _What could possibly make him do that?_

A nuclear meltdown? The complete destruction of his lab? His money bursting into flames?

All of those options would make him break down, and that was a reasonable response. But there was only one problem.

They didn't involve her.

So why in the world was Buddy, a man who felt no sympathy for the shattered and lost, so frightened for her?

Her heart began to speed up a little more when the answer slowly began to bleed into her brain. She would have told it no, and that it was a stupid idea, but it was the only thing that made sense. It was the only possibility, the only thing that could make her say yes, that call wasn't a figment of her imagination and that he… that he…

_He… cares for me…_

An ache welled in her chest, and she knew it to be longing. She had grown used to it over the weeks. But it only grew stronger when the echoes of the truth ran through her veins like hot blood. It was exhilarating, a step towards the unknown she had been searching for, even though the fog of the future was fraught with peril. It was a possibility, a stepping stone, something that made her pause and hug her blankets closer, quieting things and bringing one solid question to mind.

_He cares for me… So, can I… Can I care for him?_

She hugged her blankets a little tighter. Within the confines of her Shelter, she was prepared to think a little more intensely about the answer to that question.

But Mother Nature didn't allow it that night- or maybe it was God, telling her to just stop, just stop thinking because the more you think, the worse things are going to get for you, the harder your life is going to get, a tumble of thorns and poison... And just as she began to think about just how much she cared for him, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The prom was on everyone's thoughts that Friday. Violet couldn't go into a classroom without hearing about who was going to wear what, and who said yes or no to whomever. And, of course, they kept talking about how the infamous chemistry teacher, the more-than-reluctant prom committee advisor Buddy Pine, had completely rented out the entire performing arts center. It was a good thing he wasn't there that day to hear all of the chatter. The gossip floating around would have certainly set off his oh-so infamous temper.

_I wonder what's wrong with him…_

"Can you believe it?" said some girl Violet never cared to know. "The _entire _center!"

"Well _duh,_" said her equally irritating counterpart, "he _is _rich, you know. If he _didn't _do that, then he might as well go back to his insane asylum or whatever."

"Oh yes," butted in Violet abruptly, stepping beside them and putting her things on her desk, "what oh what could he do with that massive intelligence of his besides putting together a little party?" She dropped her math book rather loudly on her desk and gave them far too sweet smiles.

The two girls paused for a moment, and then the brunette one said with an irritating tilt to the head, "Are you being sarcastic?"

"_No," _said Violet with an equal amount of said sarcasm.

"Oh." The brunette shrugged her off and then continued her conversation with her other friend, moving it to the other side of the room. "He isn't even here today. I guess he's out trying to get things ready for the dance."

"Ooh, I hope we get that hot sub from English!"

"Idiots," mumbled Violet under her breath as she flipped open her math book. She looked all around her at the similar conversations that were being held by others, some of them far more intelligent than the other two bozos. The topic was the same: Did Buddy's usefulness go beyond the size of his wallet?

Violet's fist clenched.

_None of them understand. None of them ever will. They're all imbeciles._

Violet's hand suddenly unclenched, her eyes widening slightly.

_My God, I'm sounding like him more and more._

Violet's mood only soured as the day went on, but when lunch rolled around, her scowl had found respite. Kari's happy, almost naive good mood always infected her, no matter how badly she wanted to inflict bodily harm on others.

"So," started Kari with a breath, prompting Violet to sit back and relax as the oncoming word salad spilled forth, "I found a _really _cute prom dress for tomorrow. It's a really pretty pink, but not that cotton candy pink that I hate, but like a bubble gum pink, you know? And I've got some _really _cute earrings to go with it to! Oh goodness, I have to make sure I let Roger know what I'm wearing tomorrow! The corsage has to match, doesn't it? That's what they're always saying…"

"Oh, so you're going with Roger Lambert, are you?"

Kari grinned. "Yeah. I'm so excited. I know being captain of the golf team isn't as prestigious as being the captain for the soccer team or whatever, but he's still so good looking and nice and did you know that he listens to a lot of alternative like me? Oh my gosh Vi, I think we're a match made in heaven!" Kari finally took a breath and sipped her soda. "Oh goodness, I've told you all of my plans, but I haven't even given you a chance!"

Violet awkwardly looked away and poked at her tray, pushing around the still-frozen carrots they had served her. "No, it's fine-"

"_No. _It _isn't." _Kari grabbed onto Violet's arm and pulled her unbelievably close, the almost crazed intensity of her expression reminding Violet of someone else she knew. "Violet, you _have _to tell me!" She let her go, stomping her feet. "Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Alright, alright." Violet sighed a little. "Well… Things haven't changed since we last talked."

Kari's face fell. "Then you didn't find a date?"

"N-no, not really that, it's just…" She hesitated, but a quick glance at her best friend's sympathetic eyes made her cold uncertainty melt away. Kari always had her best interests in mind. She might as well give her _some _of the truth.

"I… I _do _have someone that I… would really like to go to the prom with."

Kari's eyes widened, getting even bigger than the lunch trays. Slowly, she grabbed onto Violet's arm and gripped her tightly. "_Who?" _she asked with an almost creepy force.

"I-I can't tell you. I promised."

Kari's face fell. "Aww… Well then can you tell me why you're not going with him to the dance?"

"Ah… Well…" She searched for the right words. "I guess it… To put things in simple terms, he _couldn't _take me, even if he wanted to."

It was back, that insane intensity of hers. "Oh! Oh!! Violet!! Oh my goodness, tell me more right now before I start filling in the gaps!"

Violet gave her a sheepish chuckle. Oh no, they wouldn't want that, especially since she knew exactly how her best friend's mind worked. "You see, Kari… He's…" She coughed, and then leaned forward and whispered half of the truth in her ear.

Kari's jaw dropped, and she turned and looked at Violet with wide eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised her eyebrows in silent question.

"Yup," was Violet's simple answer.

"Oh… My… GOD…" Kari pointed at Violet, shaking with hardly suppressed giddiness. "You're seeing an older man!!"

Violet's eyes widened with horror and she swiftly moved forward, slapping her hand over Kari's mouth before she could notify anyone else of her secret. "Kari! Just in case you forgot- _we are still in the lunchroom!"_

Kari let out a muffled, "Sorry!" Violet, deeming her safe, let her go. "Sorry," she said again, softer this time. Then, she dropped to an even lower whisper, eyes glinting. "Okay, Vi, you _have _to give me a name now."

"No I do _not,_" said Violet sternly. "I've told you too much already."

Kari, now that she was denied information, was making it up all her own in her head. "Oh, Vi, how _romantic._ It's forbidden love! Oh goodness, I wonder who it could be? Was it a chance encounter on the street? Or maybe an accidental bump in at the mall? Or maybe- _maybe _it's a _teacher!_" She giggled. "Oh, this is just _too good!"_

Violet had turned away from Kari, hiding her pale complexion. Her friend was doing too good of a job at 'filling in the gaps.'

"Kari, you _can't _tell _anyone. _Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah," waved Kari absentmindedly before she drifted back to her radical musings. "Oooh, no wonder you weren't looking for a date; there was only one man you wanted! Oh, how romantic! Violet, you're so amazing!"

Violet flushed red. "Kari, stop…"

"But why?" Kari grabbed hold of Violet's arm and hooked her own arm with hers, pulling her up out of the lunch chairs and walking them out of the lunchroom without even giving it a second thought. "Violet, I'm so happy for you! You've found yourself a guy! And a _forbidden _guy no less," she added slyly.

Violet shook her head at her. "Kari, you're helpless."

"I know. I'm such a sucker for that kind of thing." She tugged on Violet again as if to literally drag her back onto the previous topic. "Okay! Vi, you need to tell me something?"

"What?" asked Violet reluctantly.

"How long?"

"Excuse me?"

Kari rolled her eyes. "How _long? _You know! How long have you two been dating?"

Violet, startled out of her wits, nearly tripped and fell on her face; her legs had suddenly lost all ability to function. Face flaming, she turned her head to face Kari, stuttering. "W-what did you just say?"

Her friend gave her a cross look. "Violet, stop teasing me like this! You tell me a tiny bit of juicy info, and then you refuse to tell me anything else!" She prodded her with her elbow. "Now come on, don't play dumb. How long have you two been going out?"

Violet put a hand to her cheek, her normally warm palm freezing compared to her face. "Kari, we aren't d-d… dating…"

_Oh my God, this isn't exactly how I wanted to confront this issue…_

No, she had wanted to do this on her own time on her own wishes, but here was her friend, poking her for an answer she wasn't prepared to give yet. An answer that she was desperately afraid to admit because… because she didn't know if it was a truth she was allowed to admit, or maybe it was because she didn't want to say anything to jinx the relationship they already had, or maybe… maybe…

_Do I really want to say it? Do I? Do I want to give it words? But once I do… what will happen? What will happen when I allow my secret to become embodied by the spoken word? Will it grow? Will it sprout wings? Will it become a beast I cannot control?_

So long… For so, so long she could feel her control slipping. Every night she slipped out, every lie she told, every kiss he stole from her, a little more of her former self slipped away, disappearing and replaced by a devouring hunger that grew larger and larger. If she said it, if she let it become more than it was… Would the rusting chains surrounding her heart and mind finally snap? She could already feel them creaking as she felt the words forming on her tongue.

"He's…"

Just a little more, and it would be all over. There would be no turning back. There would be no more point in denying. It would be what it would be, and no amount of crying or screaming or bleeding could ever change the fact that _she was his…_

Violet clutched onto her wrist.

_I don't know, I just don't know anymore!_

"Vi?" Kari bent her head down, looking at Violet concernedly. "Violet, you look sick!"

"I… I think I need to use the bathroom," mumbled Violet, pulling herself away. She rushed down the hall and into the girl's restrooms, throwing open a stall door and dropping to her knees. She hugged the porcelain and dropped her head, and let the sickness ensue.

Oddly enough, as she threw up her lunch, she found herself unable to question why she was getting sick over something trivial as the truth. And the more she thought about it, the more she began to realize something.

"Jesus," she rasped, resting her cheek against the toilet's rim, "he's going to be the end of me."

And the scary thing was, she didn't give a damn.

* * *

A/N: If you're curious as to what Buddy mumbled over the telephone, he said, "Don't be an idiot." Just a little sneak-peak info as to how he's feeling right now…


	19. Almost Time

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Almost Time**

"_Try to find out what makes you tick as I lie down, sore and sick. Do you like that? Do you like that?"_

"_Diary of Jane," by Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

Everything was in place. Every last calculation made, every single detail checked over and over. Behavior was predicted and calculated, movements precise and marked. There was not a single thing that was overlooked. Things were placed with absolute perfection. Possibility for error was less than half a percent.

And yet, despite the obvious flawlessness to his plan, fault still remained, and for once in his years of living, he was horrified to discover that the fault lied not in his structures or his peoples or anything around him, but with _himself._

_He _was a flaw.

"Blasphemy!" he spat, slamming his fist on his lab table, his hair falling forward in his face. "Lies!" He swept his arm across the surface, the countless papers of his denial and truth falling to the floor in a snowy flurry. A small box, a special, horrible box bounced across the floor. It hummed, and then, ever so slightly- as if it felt the feeling of fear itself- flickered to life, projecting a familiar, grainy scene. It was him, of course, but not. No, he refused to accept that.

"It's not me," he ground out, running a hand through his tussled hair again, "it cannot be…!"

But just as he knew his own mind, he knew his own body. The slope of his shoulders, the broad curve of his chest, his mindful, careful hands… They were all his, and they were covered in blood.

_Her _blood.

"This cannot be," he hissed to himself again as he felt the familiar sickness return. "How could this happen to me?!"

He was not referring to the ability to dream. No, that was to be shared with everyone who had some sort of complex thought. What he was referring to was the inexplicable inability to cease all ability to form an intelligent thought. It was the infuriating reason why he couldn't go back to sleep. It was the constant racing of his mind, over and over, across and around, repeating the images again and again, the worried tones, the sound of roaring car engines, the screaming shrills, the warmth, the awful, awful warmth of her blood on his hands…

"NO!" He brought down both fists on his table, leaving dents in the metal. His knuckles bled, and his jaw hurt from being clenched, but his fury was a powerful tranquilizer, and he felt absolutely _nothing._

Nothing except for the curdling feeling of regret.

"WHY?!" he demanded, picking up the hologram and shaking it furiously. "Why have you done this to me?!"

The hologram offered no answers. It simply replayed his horrible nightmare over and over in front of his eyes, the image of the mutilated girl reflecting over and over in his eyes and off the metallic walls and down on the floor and over, above him, surrounding him, consuming him in it's twisted doom.

"I cannot stop," he whispered to himself, his hand clenching tightly around the small cube. "I cannot stop thinking about her… The damn dream…"

It wasn't a matter of what had happened or why it had happened or how any of those dreamed up events had taken place. What mattered was the impact that it had on him, the remains of what the drifting dream left behind. And what it left was a sour, sour truth that lingered on his tongue like spoiled milk.

"You can't do it…" His grip tightened, a drop of blood slipping down his wrist and disappearing into his sleeve. "You've grown _weak. _You've _lost it._"

His butterfly… his precious, precious butterfly… He wanted her so badly- so _badly. _His lust was growing stronger and stronger by the day, and seeing her the other day had been horrible. It was a torture, especially when she had run up so abruptly to him and kissed him so soundly. He had wanted to take a hold of her right then and there and just… just…

As if reading his thoughts, the hologram flickered again, going past all the other dreams he had logged, and it settled on one in particular…

Soft skin. Black, silky hair. The curve of a thigh, a sigh falling from thin, pink lips. Purple clashing with blue as white cotton sheets curled around them, sweat and tears and the sweetness found in only one embrace…

Any normal man would have become aroused watching such a passionate dream, but for Syndrome, it only made him grow cold with fury. But still he watched, analyzing, prodding, poking, demanding _why?_

_Why am I falling for this fucking girl?_

Oh yes, he wasn't ignorant enough to lie to himself. No, only complete idiots did that. But even though he was able to admit that, yes, she was becoming more than a pawn in his eyes, that didn't change the fact that _he hated her. He –hated- her. _He wished that she would just fucking _die _and get out of his fucking life and leave his _fucking mind alone!!_

"DAMMIT!" He slammed the hologram into the desk, the image of their lovemaking flickering off and disappearing completely. He kicked over his chair, roaring. "This has always been the plan! Always!" He threw himself at his desk, looming over it. His eyes caught the sight of a pin. He picked it up, glaring at it as it gleamed back at him.

"This… This was supposed to be for you," he whispered. "This was _all _supposed to be for you… and now…"

Without a thought, he slammed the pin into the back of his hand. It dug deep into his flesh, no pain registering. He merely smirked at it- a twisted, cynical, hateful smirk- as the blood began to pour, bead by bead, the metal gleaming at him in the lowly lit room.

"And now," he said with bitter sarcasm, "it is _you _who has pinned _me."_

Syndrome had planned from the beginning for Violet to die. That had been an unshakable truth. What was the point of keeping something after it had been used beyond usefulness?

Then, he had grown fond of her, in a manner that was similar to a guy liking a hot piece of ass. He had decided to keep her as "special company."

After that, things had actually gotten a little enjoyable. Smiles came easier than they had before. Perhaps he would treat her more than just a fuck toy.

And now…

"And now," he repeated aloud, slowly picking up his hand, inspecting the silver pin digging into his hand, the crimson blood of his heart falling down his scarred skin, "now I cannot do any of those things."

How did he know? Well, that wonderful truth had been revealed by his nightmare.

With most dreams, the details disappeared are were left unforgotten. But this… Not only did every single last fragment of every single moment of last's night nightmare, the feelings left behind did remained as well, as prominent as they were the first time his knees had crunched against broken glass, his fingers dipping into crimson warmth... They remained there, imprinted on his shriveled soul, lingering there like a nasty virus. They invaded his brain, spinning and twisting and pulling and destroying, screaming at him, screaming, screaming, relieving themselves in that god damn little cube… The car… the driver- _him- _and what he had always wanted to do in the end… and then… the unprecedented, highly loathed ending… an ending that had brought _him _to _tears…_

_That was fake. There was no car. There were no tears. But… the fear… The fear that the dream had left… That was real._

And if that was going to be the end of Violet, he could never _ever _accept it. Even if he was the one that was supposed to bring about that very end. It was impossible, now and forever, because he knew- he _knew _that if he dared to step over that line, that singular action crossing between good and evil, the final step to his devious plan… He would fail. Utterly, utterly fail.

A weak chuckle fell from him. "This is…" Another one, a little louder this time. "Oh my God… Oh my God…! Ah… ahahah…. Ahahahah!"

He laughed hard, but it was filled with all sorts of nasty, vindictive bitterness that ate at him. It grew and grew, this overpowering _rage, _consuming him until he was cackling maniacally, sitting in his bent chair, twirling the bloody pin in his mouth. He spat it out and spun around, launching himself out of the chair, racing across the room. He threw himself at a podium, crazed giggles still falling from him. Slapping his hand down on the keypad, a large buzz echoed through the room, but it didn't faze him. He watched and waited, and then when nothing happened, his eyes narrowed and he screamed, punching the keypad with such fury, it sizzled and cracked as he snapped it in half. Immediately the podium opened up.

"Oh," he said calmly, his breathing slowing when his eyes fell on his precious Gauntlet. "This is… so much better…"

What a relief to see his evil plan embodied in front of him. It was so sweet, so beautiful, so _his _and still _so fucking evil… _It made his blood turn to fire, a pleasant, living fire that made his mouth turn up in a twisted smirk.

"Alright," he said with an almost eerily relaxed tone, moving his arm up, caressing his hand across the metal of his weapon, his motions fluid and languid, "I can accept this… change of plan. I mean, after all…" He gestured to himself with no lack of pride. "I cannot do wrong. All I can do is… adapt." He chuckled a little to himself, eyes sliding to the Gauntlet. A private little joke between them.

"You're lucky, Violet," he said allowed as he gently picked up the weapon and slid it over his hand. "You've managed to do the impossible. Congratulations to you." His hand fit perfectly. "But you've only scrapped the top of this iceberg. I wonder if things will change when you finally see what I have _really _been up to…"

The Gauntlet flared to life in a bright, crackling blast of blue. He laughed loudly and aimed, and a bolt shot out. It hit the computer, sizzling and cracking, and almost instantly, Syndrome writhed. But he was laughing… he was laughing and laughing as very similar bolts of energy laced across his own body.

"One more night," he said quietly, dropping his head, heaving a breath, his body smoking. "One more… Perhaps…" He brought a finger to his mouth in thought. "Perhaps we should have a little… party?" He grinned. "It's only right. This _is _the beginning of the rest of our lives, isn't it?"

He laughed, long and loud. Everything was alright now, because even though he had gained a weakness, he had also gained a strength. His goal remained the same, and the outcome wasn't going to change, no matter how much his feelings towards her had.

"Call Miss Patterson," he said to his still crackling computer, placing his gauntlet into his school briefcase, closing it with a snap. "I need her help…"

* * *

Buddy was fully aware that he had a bit of a… breakdown not too long ago, but after a glass of scotch and a little bit of classical music, he was feeling much, much better.

"So what if I like the girl?" he said to himself as he adjusted his collar in front of his bathroom mirror. "That doesn't affect how I feel about her father."

And _that _was all that mattered.

"Just as long as she's mine," he added after a moment, recalling the very beginning of his plot, the almost failed seduction. "That's all. Just as long as she's mine…"

"Sir." The voice belonged to Miss Patterson. She was standing outside his room holding a folder and a phone. "I was able to reserve you seats down for the opera. I placed the tickets on your dresser. I also called the store like you asked. The florist is on the line. She's asking for the kinds of flowers." She juggled a few papers in her arms, inspecting them once more. "Also, Korea has sent over a few requests."

"About the ray?"

"About the ray."

He sighed and gave up fixing his collar. He left his bathroom, picked up the phone, and said quickly, "Surprise me," and then promptly ended the conversation. Then he picked up the folder, flipped through the papers, and then picked up one. The rest he threw in the trashcan next to his nightstand. "This, I can do. The others… the others I will not, unless they can send me that titanium quantum chamber I asked from them."

"Yes, sir." She bowed a little, and then reached out and began to fix his collar. She seemed a bit worried, her normally sharp and sure moments slow and faltering. "Sir?"

He caught her worry, and for the first time, he could see the good intention behind it. Despite the fact it kind of made him uneasy (any good intentions towards him usually ended up quite ill), he spoke kindly, at least as kindly as he could. "Yes, Emily?"

Hearing the casual question made things so much easier for her, which was obvious. The relieved expression on her face told it all. "Sir… Have you decided on what you are going to do after the prom?"

Such a direct question from her was almost absurd for him. He didn't know she had the guts to even think about it. And while some of him was a bit irked at her for poking and prodding into his business, he also knew that his newly revised plans were going to call for a _lot _of Miss Patterson's help. He couldn't afford to keep her out of the loop. Not now.

"The main plan is as it is. Nothing has changed."

She paused, a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"However."

A slight falter in her gaze.

"Violet is to remain unharmed."

He could hear her audibly sigh. Visually, her whole body relaxed. She suddenly continued to fix his collar, and he found that she was doing so with a greater amount of care and concern than before. "Then… you aren't going to…?"

"No."

She smiled. "Of course not." She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the word, a relief almost. "Of course you wouldn't. You two are just… too much fun together."

"Tell that to Geoffry," he murmured with a smirk. "He wasn't very fond of his dinner being splattered all over the walls."

Emily giggled a little, and then her smile faltered again. "Sir… I'm glad that you aren't… well, you know, going to do… _that_… anymore… but…" She smoothed down his collar, his shoulders, and gently touched his upper arm. "What are you going to do when she finds out?"

A pause in which a tense silence filtered the air. He remained impassive, unmoving, unblinking, a long, strained quiet that amplified the worried beating of Miss Patterson's heart.

"Sir?"

He turned from her and walked back to his bathroom. "Simple," he said as he paused in the doorway. "She will never be told." And then he disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Miss Patterson remained in her spot, and she continued to watch the space he had once occupied with such a pitying gaze.

"Oh Sir, what have you gotten yourself into…?" She shook her head sadly and slowly approached the bathroom door. She heard his medicine cabinet open. Lightly, she tapped on the door. "Sir?"

"What?" He seemed to be a little irritated.

"Now that things have changed, shall I… make the appropriate modifications?"

A pause, and then the sounds of movement continued. "Yes. I'm sure you don't need to be told exactly what."

"Yes, sir."

He heard her leave and he turned back to the mirror, putting the comb to his hair once more. "It's not a big change," he murmured, "not a big one." He threw the comb to the side, his eyes catching the sight of his hand, the small wound there covered up with a discreet bandage. He smirked a little.

"I have to admit," he said with a slight laugh in his words, "the living have always been a little more interesting than the dead."

He gave himself one last look in the mirror, and then he turned off the bathroom lights and slipped out of it swiftly. Catching a glance at his clock, he quickened his steps a little. Violet was due to arrive soon, and he still had a few last minute preparations to take care of.

* * *

Emily sat in the back of the limo, waiting for the driver to return. He apparently ate something that didn't agree with him and was now occupying the worker's restroom. Emily shook her head, sighing a little with irritation. Sometimes she couldn't understand why Mr. Pine hired some of these men…

"Really now," she murmured to herself sharply, looking down at her watch, "we cannot keep Miss Violet waiting!"

She couldn't quite understand why her employer had suddenly decided to throw together this evening out. It was strange and completely unprecedented. But at least it was better than what he had wanted to do in the beginning.

_I've been there through other hardships, and I have seen the full extent of his evil more than once. And I am fine with that because I love him. That is how I can go through my day and accept all those deaths that not only stain his hands, but mine as well. _She leaned her head against the tinted windows. _How else could I bear to stand being his right hand? I would have shattered long ago…_

She prayed that Violet remained strong. She prayed that Buddy had done his job and had stolen her heart, because if he hadn't, if she remained the same, that fragile, young flower, she would die. There was no other option. Buddy was a fire, and if she could not accept him for all of his fury, his beauty, his strength, she would be utterly destroyed.

_Stay strong, miss. Stay strong. Things may seem sweet now, but the end is approaching… _A sad, teary-eyed look entered her expression. _But at least you live for now. There is that. Still… _

Oh, why did she love a man who was so terribly, terribly evil? Who was plotting such inexplicable horrors? And why… Why hadn't she herself been consumed by her poisonous grief?

But what would she do now? Everything was already in place. There was no turning back now. Already she could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. She knew what was to happen, and knew what was to be. They were already dead, even though they continued to breath somewhere in that big city. But Violet… Would the butterfly be able to survive when all of the flowers were crushed? Would she be able to ever fly again when she knew just how much the man of her heart coveted the girl?

Would she…?

"I'm so sorry, Violet," whispered Emily as she gently wiped a tear out of her eye. "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

"_Ah, Monsieur Syndrome. It iz a pleasure."_

"Yes, Bomb Voyage, it's been a while." Syndrome leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on his coffee table. He was watching the television, that day's events passing by in front of his eyes. He noticed it was rather droll. He would soon fix that.

"_Vell," _said Bomb Voyage on the other side of the phone, _"have you vired me ze money?"_

"Yes," said Syndrome casually as he inspected his fingernails. "You'll find it in the Swiss account."

Bomb Voyage chuckled. _"Ah, Syndrome, you never change. It iz… a good quality about you." _Another chuckle, this one sly. _"Alzough, I vas a tad bit surprised when you told me to not touch ze girl. I could have sworn ze extra five thousand vas for her destruction alone…"_

Syndrome's smile faded and a cold look bled into his face and voice. "Don't question my motives," he said with a steel tone. "I have my reasons."

"_Yes, yes." _Bomb Voyage dismissed Syndrome's foul tone easily. _"Every villain has his moments, including myself. But… I vonder… Vat vill you do aftervards?"_

"That… has yet to be finalized."

He laughed again. _"Of course."_

"Don't mock me, Bomb Voyage. I won't take to it very kindly."

"_I do not mock!" _said the villain defensively. _"I merely vonder." _He sighed with content. _"It does not matter anyvay. As long as I get my revenge on zat foul Mr. Incredible and hiz horrible vife, zat nasty Elastigirl, zen… zen I shall be satisfied." _He paused for a moment. _"Vat do you vant me to do vith ze rest of ze family?"_

Syndrome's eyes widened fractionally with surprise. He hadn't thought of that yet. "I..." He paused for a moment, putting a hand to his chin in thought. They didn't really matter to him, and that little speedy devil of a child had caused him a lot of trouble. And that baby… God, he hated that child. But…

"I… don't know," admitted Syndrome. "It feels like killing them would be a waste. Do you have any ideas?"

"_You, ze oh so proud Syndrome, are asking moi for help?" _Syndrome ignored his small satisfied chuckle. _"Ah, well... Have you considered zat little... program you told me about?"_

"That… program?" He searched his brain for the information. Program, program, what in the world was-

"Oh," he breathed, realization dawning. "Oh yes… That. Yes, it's perfect... _perfect..._" He laughed happily. "Ah, Bombie, you never cease to please me. Alright, don't hurt the kids too badly. I'm going to need them for the next phase of our little scheme."

"_I vill try not to," _said Bomb Voyage.

Syndrome heard the doorbell ring. "Ah, that must be the delivery. We will talk later."

"_Of course."_

Syndrome hung up and put the phone down on his couch. He sat there for a moment, soaking in the moment, pleased with himself and how things were falling together, and then he decided to get up and collect the flowers he had ordered for Violet.

_Everything is coming together _so _nicely!_

He accepted the flowers with curt courtesy. He didn't know what they were, but there were a lot of pinks and purples and whites. He sniffed them a little- _a nice, pleasant smell, just like her hair- _and then placed them on a coffee table nearby.

_She'll like them._

He sat down on the couch, sinking into it with a smirk on his face. He closed his eyes and leaned back, sighing with content.

_Everything is… coming together… _

Another sigh.

_God, I've never been so happy._

And the night could only get better…


	20. Obsession, The Twelfth Stroke

A/N: For the loyal readers who have been waiting for so, so long… A long chapter (seriously) filled with all the things that make this fiction rated **M** (hintity hint hint).

Today's quote is from **Apolianne**. It took a while, but here it is! I hope this chapter is thanks enough!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Obsession (The Twelfth Stroke)**

"_Will his eyes reveal to me promises or lies?"_

"_In His Eyes," from Jekyll and Hyde_

* * *

Violet was going to lose her head.

"Dammit!" She pulled out her clothes in her closet, hanger by hanger, searching for something to wear. Dash sat on her bed, watching all of this with a laidback stare, a sucker in his mouth. He didn't flinch when a shoe hit the wall next to him, and merely moved lifted his leg out of the way when an entire shower of jean pants came tumbling down onto the bed.

"Why do I have all of these?" she asked with a whine. "I can't wear _these!_"

"Vi," said Dash, "don't you think you should be a little quieter? Mom and Dad think you're going to Kari's house, not to Syndrome's."

"Buddy's," corrected Violet absentmindedly, still locked in panic mode. "Oh God, dammit Buddy, why couldn't you have told me sooner?" She rushed back into her closet, yanking everything to the side, reaching the things in the back that she rarely touched.

"You know," said Dash irritably as he watched his sister grunt and groan as she tried to unhook a stubborn hanger from it's place on the rack, "I really can't believe you're doing this. Don't you have a prom to go to tomorrow?"

Talk of prom momentarily brought her mind off track. She pulled away and fisted her hands at her hips arrogantly. "_Yes, _I _know _that. And I've already got my dress." She gestured to the plastic covered thing next to her vanity. "But the prom and tonight are two different things. Tonight is…" She trailed off. "Tonight is…?"

_Why did he do this again?_

She recalled the very surprising, very brief conversation she had with Miss Patterson.

_Violet was sitting down watching TV with her family when her butt suddenly started to vibrate. It was her unfortunate luck that everyone else sitting on the couch felt the startling, confusing feeling of having their bottoms shaken._

"_What the…?" Her mom stood up and looked down at the cushion. "What was that?"_

"_What was what?" asked Dash who was sitting down in front of the TV, his nose practically touching the screen._

_Violet froze. Her eyes darted over to her Dad. He was relaxing deeply in his recliner, his eyes droopy and his mouth practically slack. It was his day off, and by God, that meant he didn't have to think or even blink if he wanted to. She breathed a small sigh of relief._

_And then that sigh of relief turned into a nervous whimper when her mother's eyes slowly began to make their way towards the source of the vibration._

"_The couch, it just-"_

_Violet stood up suddenly, so suddenly that everyone looked at her- save her father whom she thought was still comatose. She looked at them all stiffly, and then announced very loudly, "I have to use the bathroom."_

_Everyone blinked at her, and then when they opened their eyes a fraction of a second later, she was already gone, rushing into the bathroom, pulling at her pajama pants furiously. She snatched the phone, pressing the send button furiously._

"_Yes?" she snapped._

"_Hello." It wasn't the voice she had expected. "It's Miss Patterson."_

"_M-Miss Patterson!" Violet flushed red from shame and embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, I thought you were-"_

"_It's quite alright," she said, a smile in her tone. "Actually, I do have a message from him."_

"_Huh?" She sat down on the toilet, confused. "A message?" She brightened a little. "Is it about why he didn't come to school today? Cause I was… a little worried…"_

_There was a pause on the other end of the line. "No," said Miss Patterson after awhile, her tone apologetic, "I'm afraid not. I have other news."_

"_Other news?" Violet's eyes narrowed with puzzlement. What other news could there be?_

"_Yes." Her tone was cheerful now. "He told me to tell you to be prepared for an evening out tonight."_

_Violet nearly dropped the phone. "An evening… out?" She shook her head rapidly. Of _course _Buddy would do this to her! _

"_No, no! I can't do it! I-I don't-"_

_Miss Patterson spoke as if she hadn't even heard her. "I will be prepared to pick you up at the park near your house at nine."_

_The words she had sputtered out were quickly swallowed. "What?" Violet pressed the phone closer to her ear. There was no way that she was hearing things right. "What did you say?"_

"_I said, I will be waiting to pick you up at the park near house within the next hour. I would arrange an excuse. I suggest saying that you are staying at a friend's house tonight." Miss Patterson's voice seemed to hold a bit of laughter in it. "Miss Violet, you don't sound alright."_

"_Of course I'm not alright!" Violet put a hand to the side of her head, dragging it down her face. "You're telling me to get ready for a date in less than an hour, and you're telling me to lie to my parents- again- AND, you won't even tell me why Buddy wasn't at school today!"_

"_I'm sorry," said the not-so-sorry voice, "but it cannot be helped. Mr. Pine has a habit of being rather… spontaneous."_

_Violet pouted, scowling. "I can clearly see that." She sighed. "And even though it irritates the heck out of me off… I can't say no."_

"_Wonderful. Then I shall be waiting to pick you up at nine. Oh, and one more thing, Miss Violet."_

_She groaned. "Now what? A trip to Europe? Skydiving?"_

"_No," said the secretary with a laugh. "Considering the things he has planned for the evening, you will not need a windbreaker, but instead formal wear."_

"_Formal?"_

"_Yes. Well, until nine, then."_

_Then, she hung up, leaving a very confused, very agitated off Violet._

Violet hadn't been told a reason, and that wasn't something she was very happy about, and the bare minimum warning she had been given was _not _something she appreciated, but… But she truly had been worried about him that day. Usually he would tell her when he was going to be absent, and usually when that happened it… well it was because of her. But today, he had just up and disappeared, and she hadn't heard from him since. Tonight, though… Tonight she _would _see him again, maybe get some answer, and…

_And I…_

A warm, tickling feeling filled her stomach, and she began to blush. She giggled to herself a little, totally unaware that Dash was still in the room and was watching her, an eyebrow raised.

"Wow," he said suddenly, startling her, causing her to jump into the air, "I really don't want to know what's going on in that head of yours right now."

"Well that's just fine," she retorted with a hot blush, turning away from him and focusing on a shirt she found to be incredibly ugly, "because I don't want you near my thought ever!"

He stuck his blue tongue out at her and she returned the favor. Popping his sucker back into his mouth, he continued to glare at her, kicking at the clothes at the end of the bed. "You're running out of time, you know. You're supposed to be out of here in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?!" She snapped her head towards the clock and nearly screamed. "Oh my God, I have fifteen minutes!" She scrambled towards her closet, ripping everything off, no longer bothering to make sure things stayed on the hangers. She was desperate, animalistic, and she _needed something to wear!_

"I don't have anything to wear!" she wailed, staring at her empty closed with a desolate, doomed look, a stack of colors behind her.

"Well," said Dash, his voice coming somewhere behind her, perhaps behind the sparkling sequin shirt, or maybe behind the fluffy pink sweater, "as much as I love watching you suffer, I don't think I can take anymore of this torture. It's like watching a baby animal drown."

"That's not funny, Dash!" she spat at him, sniffling. "If you don't have anything nice to say, then get the heck out of my room!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" He pointed at her angrily. "I was just about to help you, you know! But if you're going to be like _that…_" He appeared from behind the pink sweater, swinging his feet down to the skirt covered floor. "I guess I'll be on my way-"

"NO!" She grabbed him roughly- his eyes widened for a moment- and then she yanked him to her, seizing his shoulders and staring deeply into his eyes with crazed desperation.

"Tell… me…"

He went pale. "Okay," he whispered, "just don't hurt me."

The absolute dread that was in her face disappeared and was replaced by a relieved smile. "Good. Now, what is your idea?" She gave him a warning look. "And it better not be a stupid one!"

Dash, fully recovered now that his sister wasn't glaring at her with that creepy despair, shook himself free of her. He quickly regained the tatters of his manly pride around him by angrily pouting. "It's not a bad idea! And if you had your head screwed on your shoulders right, you would have thought of it in the beginning!"

"What?"

He rolled his eyes at her and merely pointed to the back of her closet. Slowly, she followed his eyes… And then, realization hit her like a car and told her just how stupid she was.

"Oh… My… _GOD!" _She groaned at her stupidity as she went to the back of her closet and opened the door to her own little superhero space. "I can't believe I hadn't thought of that!"

"I know," said Dash, following her into the medium sized room. He looked around a little, and finding nothing big to be changed, he merely shrugged and went back to the conversation. "You loved that dress the moment you got it. I still don't know why. I've seen way prettier ones than that."

"Oh?" Violet turned to face him, a teasing grin on her face. "Do we have a little fashion expert here?"

Dash's eyes widened and he blushed bright red. He turned away from her and scowled at the floor. "Shut up!"

She laughed a little. "I kid, I kid. No, you're right, it isn't very special looking." She went towards the back of the room and opened up one of the small closets that blended in with the wall. Inside was a simple dress made of soft, liquid velvet. She picked it up gently, running the fabric across her hands, smiling. "I like it so much because of how it feels." Suddenly, it disappeared in her arms, and her smile grew bigger. "And I like it because of that."

"Yeah, yeah…" Dash was already making his way out of the room, but before completely exiting, he peeked his head back around the door, a small little smile on his face. "Oh yeah. You only have five minutes left."

"AAH!" She slammed the closet shut, burst out of the room, and quickly snatched up a small duffle bag. She rushed over to her vanity, and like one, giant wind, swept her arm across the top of it, dumping her makeup and brushes and everything else into the bag. "I'm going to have to change along the way! Oh gosh, I hope Buddy isn't in there waiting for me!"

"He won't be," said Dash, leaning against the door. "He doesn't wait for anyone."

Violet found the time to give him a snappish look, and he merely shrugged at her. She grabbed the closest heels she could find, a coat she had set aside earlier, and put them all in another bag, sparing a few extra seconds to carefully fold her dress and place it inside as well.

Dash opened the door for her. "Have a fun-"

"BYE MOM, BYE DAD, I'M OFF TO KARI'S!"

"Bye, Vi," they said in unison, but even that simple reply went unheard; she was already out the door, tennis shoes hitting the pavement, legs pushing as much as they could against the ground, propelling her faster than she had ever gone before.

_I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late!_

She was a blur in the night, her path barely lit by the streetlights that flickered every now and again. She had no time to focus on the fears that she felt when she was in the dark, the possible monsters in the shadows, the creeps lurking on the streets. She didn't even bother to notice how odd it was for a thin, lanky girl that was barely a woman to be running around at nine with two giant bags on either side of her, flapping around like overly inflated water wings. Nope, that didn't even cross her mind once.

What _did _swarm her mind like horrible locusts was the anger she was going to have to face when she was late for her and Buddy's date.

_Oh my God, I hope I didn't ruin this night. I'm so sorry- and I SWEAR I am going to go shopping as soon as I get some money!_

She glared at herself. Why did her taste in fashion have to be so plain?

She nearly cried with relief when she reached the pond, and then fought the urge to drop to her knees and declare her almighty love to the heavens when she saw the limo parked on the side of the street, Emily standing outside waiting for her.

"Violet?" Emily took a couple steps forward. "Violet, are you-"

"I'm so sorry!" heaved Violet, dropping the bags at her sides. "I… I was trying to find something to wear and I couldn't find anything and I thought I was going to pull out my hair and my brother wasn't helping but then he did help and I found something to wear but then there wasn't any time and I had to put everything in these bags and get changed in the limo and really hope Buddy isn't in there waiting for me because I can't change with him in there cause that would just be awkward especially with you there!" And then Violet teetered and plopped to the ground, taking in as much air as she could.

Emily stared at her for a moment, and then hesitantly reached out and took Violet's bags, picking them up slowly. "…Alright," she said calmly, taking a careful step back. "Well he isn't here so we can get you all fixed up before we have to meet him."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Violet weakly.

"It's quite alright. Now, get up out of the street. You're going to ruin your… uh, pajama pants…"

"Huh?" Violet looked down at her rubber duckie jamies and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I was all ready for bed when you called me, and I didn't have any time to change after getting everything put together."

"It's quite alright, and I also apologize." She sighed crossly. "I swear, that man really rubs me the wrong way sometimes."

Emily reached out and offered Violet a hand, which she took gratefully. She got to her feet and wobbled a little, both of them laughing.

"You really booked it over here, didn't you?" asked the secretary as she opened the door for Violet.

"Yeah." She nodded her wind swept head wearily. "I was afraid you were going to leave me."

Miss Patterson laughed. "Oh goodness, no. If I did that, I'd be out of a job!"

* * *

"Ow!" Violet dropped her eyeliner again, her right eye blinking rapidly as it began to tear once again. Angrily she reached for another cottonball and began to dab at her eye before her crying ruined her makeup. "This is ridiculous… Can't the driver drive a little smoother? I think I'm going to poke my eye out before the end of this ride!"

"At least you're almost done," soothed Emily, patting her gently on the shoulder. "You got through the mascara well."

"Yeah," said Violet sarcastically, "right before a nice little bump made me draw a line right down the middle of my forehead." She snatched up her eyeliner once again and held up the mirror, starting over.

"We got it off. Nobody will ever know, I promise."

Violet grumbled a little, but she didn't voice her angry thoughts. Emily didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of her frustration.

This night… This night, she knew, was going to change everything. It was inevitable; the tensions inside of chemistry class, the fleeting brushes of his hand against hers as he passed out papers. The short, brief moments between one another as she stole away to his bed if only for a few hours. The weeks had crawled on, each move he made taking her towards a destination that grew more and more tempting. And for once, she felt his own frustrations. They were taut, pulled on a fine string. She felt that if she were to pluck it, the gentle sound that would come from it would be enough to snap it all together.

That was why she wanted things to be perfect. That was why she was so angry with how things were turning out. That was why she was angry with him for scheduling the most important night of her life so abruptly. But she would forgive him if she could just hear the single note of their tensions ring just once.

Slowly, she pulled away her eyeliner, blinking at the vision of her eyes; they were filled with so much emotion. Was that what she was feeling like? Were her own desires so thick and palpable that they were visible with just a mere glance?

_Of course they are, _she thought to herself, closing the mirror in her hand with a shaking snap. _How else would it be?_

Emily took the mirror from Violet after she finished and placed it in her bag. She took up the brush and carefully drew it through Violet's long, silky, black hair. "Are you sure you don't want me to put it up?" she asked with gentle tones.

Violet sighed, the feeling of her hair being brushed calming her down. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll just wear a clip. It's fine. Besides, I don't even want to begin to think about what would happen to my head in this car…"

Emily smiled a little. "Of course." She pulled back the girl's long bangs and used a small rhinestone clip to hold them there. "There. That should do it." She looked up. "Oh, and just in the nick of time. It looks like we've arrived."

"Huh?" Violet peered forward out of the window. A colored poster caught her eye, and she scooted forward in her seat, pressing her nose against the glass. Her eyes widened, and she let out a small cry of happiness when she saw the glass unicorn displayed elegantly under the flashing lights of the theatre. "The Glass Menagerie! I've always wanted to see this! I can't believe they're putting it on here."

"It's a one night deal," explained Emily. "It's back by popular demand."

Violet was itching to get out of the limo, but quickly her face fell when they drove right past the front doors. She turned to the secretary, confused. "Aren't we going in?"

"Yes, we are. But Mr. Pine is a very powerful man, and he has a bit of a… reputation," she said, her words faltering a little. She was going to say something else. "So we will go through the back entrance that has been reserved for people who need a little more privacy."

Violet smiled a little, not sure what else to do. She turned away from Emily, tucking her arms to her chest, a small crease forming in the middle of her brow. She hadn't thought of Buddy's station in life for a long time, and the past that had influenced him, leading him to the point where he was today. She hadn't seen much of it during their… relationship. He always made sure to either distract her from it, or he didn't bring it up at all. It was almost as if he was afraid that talking about it would bring about some cataclysmic event. Violet hadn't bothered to notice it until now, but thinking back to all of the moments that were remotely related to the past, he always closed up, always grew cold. He refused to speak of it, but it wasn't in a manner that said he would be embarrassed about it. It was more like he would feel burdened or irritated to tell her about it.

Were those emotions that came and went within flickers of time the remains of what she once feared- _still _feared? And were the equally powerful feelings of devotion that came with that fright acceptable, even though he was clearly a threat?

_Yes, _was the immediate whisper within her mind. _Yes, it is._

Buddy and Syndrome. Syndrome and Buddy. One in the same. There was no distinction between the two, and the emotions were the same. Fear became the sensation of warmth, and smiles sent shivers down her spine. It was a universal, indistinguishable sensation that had no beginning or end, it just _was._

The palpitations of her heart stuttered when she saw a familiar face waiting for the limo outside of a door marked off with red rope.

_One in the same…_

The fear. The devotion. The hatred. The love. It was all the same. It was a combined thought, feeling, color, that made everything breathe. It tethered reality to the axis that bound her body and blood to the ground. Past… it held no meaning to her except a gray haze that could never be returned to. All she could see was blue. Endless blue that was one in the same with the fluttering of her frail emotions that somehow burned the matrix of her mind and heart with incomprehensible passion.

Evil… Pointless. No matter what labels were given, or what designations were placed. Front door or back door, it didn't matter. She was stolen, trapped, and shackled to the darkness that held so much light for her.

The limo stopped in front of him. He looked at her, right at her, even though she knew the tinted windows held her out of sight. She couldn't help it… She slowly reached out and touched her hand to the glass of the window, tracing his face with her fingertips.

A hand touched her arm. "You can open the door," said the voice behind her.

She didn't have to open the door, it opened for her, and the man in front of her bowed, offering out a hand.

"I was wondering when you were going to arrive," said Buddy, his voice deep, eyes glinting with that ever sparkling cunning of his.

Violet's hand fell into his. She was moving with thoughts that had no language to them. They were open and bleeding, symbols and emotions and instincts and urges that told her to get up, curl her fingers around his, and step into his strong arms. Warm blue, and the smell of knowledge and power and evil that smelled sweet and raw. The air was crisp and addicting, only now that she was in his presence. Her mind was swept away, floating across a heavenly current that caused her to drift endlessly across a plane that held no meaning, no thought, only an essence that completed her in so many ways. It was Heaven, she swore it, and she swore that it was a miracle that she lasted so long without being with him.

"I missed you," she whispered, the words falling from her lips without even a thought to it.

She heard him chuckle a little, and then his wonderful hand came up and cupped her chin. He tilted her face towards his, and then her Heaven flashed when his soft, warm lips caressed hers. She melted, and he held onto her as he kissed her, supporting her as she slowly sank into the world around her as it dissolved.

Her body fell away, and all she could recognize was the feeling of his mouth on hers, moving in an addictive dance that twirled her around and around, stepping across broken bridges and dark abysses that opened in her spirit, lingering pits that were quickly being filled by some intangible thickness that felt so much like lust, so much like love. He was consuming her, and she could feel it; his entire being was wrapping itself around her, melding itself to her. It was a blanket, covering her, holding her, blinding her with seductive darkness. And still she could feel his kiss. Her soul thirsted, parched of love, and she drank and drank and drank, holding the blanket to her, letting herself rest against the passion that built between them.

Never again… _Never again _would she be without him. She couldn't do it. She _had_ to be with him. He was her air, he was her heartbeat, he was the swirling and the falling and the breeze and the sky and every single thing that made her world, her life, _her, _that combined together in one spectacular existence.

She felt something within her begin to shrivel up. A part of her was dying, she could feel it. It was a dull pain, like the loss of a friend, but with him so close, and his mouth so warm and sweet, she couldn't feel a thing as that special part of her was torn away, drifting apart from her cracked soul. She couldn't feel the bleeding; she was numb, and it was so wonderful, _so wonderful._

Feelings regained words. Tangible objects faded into existence. Other presences were realized, if only a little bit. The feeling of cloth beneath her clenched fingers registered, and she relaxed. Something within her was nudging her to do something. She took in air, and breathed, _breathed, _inhaling the moment, tucking it within her chest. She blinked a few times, solidifying reality.

And then she smiled at the man whom she loved with all her heart. She did not tell it to him; she didn't want to break the moment with words.

_I love you. I love you. I love you…_

Over and over she said it within her, each resounding echo completing her in ways she never thought possible. It was delicious, unfathomable; it was like taking in air that hadn't been breathed in years. It was repeating that same sweet breath she had stolen from the universe over and over. It had taken so long to do so; it was a fight she had battled and battled, but now… Now the darkness within her from him, with all it's warmth, separated her from the pain that she refused to acknowledge just as she had once refused to acknowledge the air she licked and tasted all over again.

It was a victory, but there was no cry. No words… and Buddy knew it. All he had to do was look into her eyes.

He smiled.

"I know."

The sound of heels clacking against pavement sharpened the fact that time had suddenly resumed, even though Violet was reluctant to jump back into the stream that everyone else had to follow.

"I'm sorry," said Miss Patterson reluctantly, "I know you two want to… catch up, but if we don't get in, we'll be late for the show." She gestured towards the door. "And, um… Well. There's… _that._" She pointed again, and for the first time, Violet realized that there was far more people than just them in the alleyway. A whole line of well known and respected individuals- each with their own little secrets on their arms- were lined up outside the exclusive entryway into the theatre, and they had all watched the spectacle before them. Some of them were still staring, and whisperings were already madly floating about.

She could hear herself being sucked out of her happy Heaven and into a vortex that spat her out onto the ground, smacked her upside the head, and then poked her roughly with an emotion that she was very well acquainted with.

Slowly, so slowly, a hot, rosy blush crept into her face.

She could hear chuckling beside her. Her everything or no, she smacked him in the arm as she quickly made her way into the theatre, dipping her head low so the people couldn't laugh at her mortification. Not even the small sound of pain Buddy made behind her made her feel any better.

"Oh, don't be like that." She felt him come up behind her, putting his arm around her. "We're no different then the rest of them out there. In fact, I think I saw the mayor with some girl from your school…"

"That's not the point!" hissed Violet, her face getting redder. "And don't compare me to them! I'm-"

He chuckled. "Violet, please, calm down. I'm not comparing you to them, so just relax." He looked down at her, his gaze filled with laughter. "_Relax._ This is supposed to be a night to remember, is it not?" He gently touched her chin. "Isn't it?"

Violet found herself unable to remain angry at him. That smirk on his face was so nice, and it didn't hold it's normal sharpness to it. It held humor, and humor softened his face. It made her feel happy and relaxed, her negative emotions drifting away. If she would have know that this was what it was like to love him… she would have done so long ago.

"Alright," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

He nodded a little, his smirk quirking a little. Then, without words, he gently led her up the stairs to their private section of the balcony. Behind her, she could hear the people finally begin to file in. One by one, each person with their own little part of decadence, their own little slice of addicting darkness, went to their seats, and Violet found herself pleased that she was the first to sit. It pleased her even more that it was Buddy who was beside her. And when the lights dimmed, and the stage lit up, and the man who spoke of the dream behind him began to move, she rested her head against his shoulder and drifted through the play as if she wasin that dream.

Around her, she could feel the same trance like state she was falling into; each and every eye that had watched her and him had shared a piece of the moment that defined her completely now, and they now also shared a piece of the emotion that had melded itself into the fabric of time; secret little spots where they could whisper to one another, using what she felt as fuel to sink into the bliss known as sin. Everyone that had been there was also beginning to drift off towards their private worlds of secrecy and fantasy, held together by the ones who supplied their desires and their sins.

Society could shame them, but damn society. This was just _too good._

* * *

The play had been wonderful, and had left Violet with a profound sense of sadness and a desire for hope. The story behind the memory that the man had shared to the audience was one that was laced with pitiful dreams and regret that lit the entire show. It made Violet think of her own life, and how she viewed it and how she treated her family. When she began to think of them, she began to taste something sour in her mouth and she had to stop before she lost her appetite. It wasn't the time or the place to reflect upon them and what they might be thinking right now. They had to be separate from things such as Buddy.

"Did you enjoy the show?" asked Buddy as he watched the people below the balcony file out of the theatre.

"Yes," she replied quietly, her eyes glistening with tears that were quickly drying up along with the sourness she felt. "It was a beautiful story. It was sad, but beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it." He stood up slowly and stretched. She watched him do so, and blinked a few times. She hadn't really looked at him that evening; she had been focused on other things, her mind completely separate from visuals. But looking at him now, she realized he was looking particularly handsome that night. It was more than the clean cut style he was wearing, but it was as if he had stitched that addicting pride of his into every single inch of his clothes. Every part of him oozed strength, and it made her desire him with an almost painful ache.

He caught her staring, and she blushed. He smirked. "You look rather stunning tonight as well," he said, returning her unspoken compliment. "Even in this dim light, I can tell."

She smiled and looked away modestly. "I would have looked better were it not for the driver." She gave him a teasing, reprimanding look. "I really wish you would have given me a little more warning."

"I'm sorry," he said with a mocking bow, and for the second time tonight, she heard a very insincere apology. "I happen to be very fond of… spontaneity."

She snorted daintily. "Only when you do it."

He chuckled. "You're getting to know me better and better." He offered out a hand. "Are you ready to leave?"

She nodded and gratefully took his hand, a little reluctant to get out of her comfy spot. She felt herself being pulled towards him, and she went without hesitation, nuzzling her face against the fine fabric of his suit, inhaling his crisp scent. She felt the feeling of exhaustion beginning to creep onto the back of her senses.

"Where're we going next?" she asked with a tiny yawn.

"Well," said Buddy with a smile, "from the sound of that yawn, I think we're heading back to my place for some dinner."

"Dinner?" She yawned again, louder this time. "What about bed?"

He snorted. "I'm not going to let a twig like you go to bed without dinner. And besides…" His voice rumbled deep within his chest. "I thought this was supposed to be a night to remember."

There was an insinuation hiding behind his words, and no matter how tired she was, there was no way that she could mistake it. Almost immediately her exhaustion disappeared and she felt oddly aware of everything going on. It was as if she had taken a shot of caffeine and a cold bath. She looked up at him, and he smirked back at her.

"That's what I thought." He led her off the balcony, speaking to her as they descended the steps. "Geoffry has prepared dinner for us. I'm not exactly sure as to what."

"That's okay," she said. "Whatever he makes is always tasty." She recalled the last dinner she had shared with Buddy, and then laughed a little. "Please, just no flying food tonight."

"Oh, but that's the best part!" She slapped him playfully in the arm, and he gave her a smirk. "Alright, we won't do it. I suppose we'll just eat it then."

"It sounds like a plan."

The limo was outside waiting for them. It was a completely different one, and Emily was nowhere to be seen. Violet felt mixed emotions about the departure of the secretary. Part of her was a little saddened, and another part was grateful for the privacy and alone time that was being granted to her and Buddy.

"Where's Miss Patterson?"

"Hm?" Buddy was just getting ready to get into the limo. "Oh. She went home. I gave her the rest of tonight and tomorrow off, at least until your silly prom. Then, she has to work. I don't even care if she somehow ends up maimed and turned into a vegetable; I'll find a way."

Violet gave him a cross look. "I really don't like you running the dance. You suck the fun right out of it." She sat down next to him and closed the door. "And I happen to want to have fun there, so don't you dare ruin it for me!"

"I'm not apologizing," he said with a grumble. "That damn prom committee has run me to insanity and back." He shook his head wearily. "I've decided now and forever I hate children and I never want to have any."

Violet almost said, "Well, I'm a 'children,'" but she didn't want to bring up her age. Just like him and his dislike of the past, she never wanted to draw attention to her youth. Some things didn't need to be spoken, and those that remained unspoken were shared equally between them in silence.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, sliding next to him and placing her head on his shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I can't have kids anyway- you know, small body, bad blood- so you won't have to worry about it."

The limo sunk into silence, silence that was familiar with the feeling of shock and surprise. Violet was momentarily confused; she felt an odd change in Buddy's demeanor. She looked up at him quizzically.

"What?"

He started a little, and looked at her with a hidden, mirrored expression that she hadn't seen in a long time. It meant that he was hiding something powerful, something sentimental because only things of soft, sweet nature caused him to seize up. And so, even though she could not see it, she _knew _what was going on in his head, at least in a vague sort of way.

"Violet," he said after a moment, his voice revealing nothing, "are you saying… that you plan to stay with me?"

"Huh?" She recalled her words and what she said. Was that so hard for him to realize? For her, it wasn't something radical; her devotion to him was stronger than anything she had ever known. She smiled at him. "Well, of course I do. I mean…" She gave him a worried look. "Is that a problem?"

He shook his head slowly. He seemed to be in disbelief. "No, it's not a problem, it's just…" He looked away for a moment, and she couldn't see anything; she couldn't read his emotions, his expressions. Then, he looked back at her, and her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she died.

The look in his face was so… _soft. _There was no smirk, no pride, no _anything. _It was just… happiness. It was small, and it wasn't something that any normal person would think amazing, but for her, it left her breathless with it's purity. The small little smile on his face, the same smile reflected in his warm, blue eyes… It melted her heart.

"Thank you," he said after a moment. "That's… I appreciate it."

She couldn't find the effort to speak. She could only nod.

The purity to the smile faded, and his normal, trademark smirk remained. "Well, I think it's time to leave." He called out to the driver, and they slowly began to make their way back to the main road. He placed his arm atop her shoulders and brought her in close, speaking as he did so. "You could take a quick nap if you want."

"No, I'm not tired." She suppressed a yawn. "Really."

"Mhmm." He remained unconvinced. "It's a while before we get back. You might as well rest."

Violet pouted, but out of a desire to please him, she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of travel. The low rumble of the tires against pavement, the distant sounds of the deep city like little lights that were sprinkled across the echoes of her surroundings. Mostly, she listened to the sound of Buddy's heartbeat. It was solid and sure, like a warmth that had life breathed into it. She was distinctly aware of the comfort around her, his strong arm holding her close, his fingers brushing so slightly against the smooth fabric of her dress. The leather beneath her caressed her in all it's finery, holding her in its soft cushions. It was a wonderful bed, and she felt completely wrapped in its exquisiteness, just like the special cocoons she made when she felt alone.

She wouldn't have to do that ever again. She would have him chase away the dark thoughts. He would keep her warm, keep her safe, keep her happy, and the threats that lingered within her dark and troubled thoughts would continue to lay dormant. Sharpness would stray, the double edged sin that she held as her darkest secret would continue to remain distant and silent.

Sleep began to creep up, and her cocoon began to fade, the sounds and smells becoming duller. And just before she fell away into the quiet, a stray, lingering thought delicately touched her mind. It was a voice that held on with a raspy breath, taking shelter in the furthest corners of her mind. It was crying, shaking, and bleeding as the darkness slowly consumed the small, shivering form of the dying conscience.

Closing it's violet eyes, it sobbed.

_I'm sorry…_

* * *

She awoke to him gently shaking her.

"Violet, we're here."

She sat up, blinking rapidly. "Hm?" She rubbed away the sleep, yawning. "Here where?"

"My house."

Buddy reached over and opened the door, and almost immediately Violet was hit with the cold air of the night. Her eyes shot wide open and she squeaked, sliding back towards the warmth of his body. He laughed and pushed her away from him and out of the door. She stumbled out, adjusting her dress and her hair, giving him a sharp look.

"You could have warned me!" she snapped.

He merely smirked back at her. Getting out as well, he signaled the driver and the limo rolled away towards the garage. He put his arm around her and led her towards the main doors. She gave into him quickly, her annoyance evaporating when the cozy warmth returned. She leaned into him slightly; she couldn't stay angry with him.

"Home sweet home," he said, a hint of a joke in his words as he opened the doors.

"Ah!" she walked in, enveloped with the heat of the house, the cozy coziness of being indoors. She smiled happily, feeling so much better. The limo had been nice, but to be free of the closed in space and standing freely in a place familiar to her, it was nice. The warmly lit room added to the pleasant atmosphere. She wondered if Buddy had planned it to be like this.

She turned to Buddy to ask him, but instead of seeing him, her vision was filled with beautiful flowers.

"For you," he said simply.

Violet stared at them, stunned, and then a smile slowly stretched across her face. She looked up at him with sparkling eyes, a feeling of joy bubbling in her chest. She gently took the flowers, the fragile paper wrapping crinkling slightly in her grasp. Delicately, she sniffed, and her senses were filled with beautiful scents, each unique in their own right. She could smell each and every color, every petal, and all of it was sharpened by the fact that they were a gift from him.

"Thank you," she whispered, holding the bouquet to her chest, "they're beautiful."

"Good." Buddy wasn't looking at her. He was inspecting his sleeve, and as far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong with it. "I don't… know flowers, so-"

"They're more than fine." She went up to him, and balancing on her tip toes, she kissed him daintily on the cheek. He looked at her oddly, and she blushed. How awkward.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "I think I smell dinner," he said before quickly making his exit. Violet watched him leave, catching a quick look at his face. Then, she smiled to herself gleefully and followed right after him.

She loved it when he blushed.

The smell of fine cuisine hit her when she entered the kitchen. She could hear the bubbling of something in a pot sitting over the stove, steam wafting upwards. It was hot in the kitchen, the ovens both on. The tapping of a knife against a cutting board chatted through the room, wielded by Geoffry's deft hands. She inhaled deeply, her mouth salivating, her mind beginning to imagine all of the wonderful food she was about to consume. Her hunger was becoming pronounced, and it nearly ate right through her stomach when she saw Geoffry pull a large prime rib out of the oven.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, not once looking up at her as he carefully placed the food on a nearby counter. "Into the dinning room with you! Mr. Pine is waiting."

Violet pouted. "You're cruel."

He merely waved at her. "Off with you!"

She stuck her tongue out at him, but she left anyway. She'd eventually get her food, she just preferred it now.

The dinning room, to her surprise, had been changed. Instead of the long, majestic mahogany table, a small, simple, round table took it's place, and was set for two. The fireplace still burned, but it was down to small glowing coals that kept the room comfortable. Candles were lit, giving off clean, romantic light. Buddy was sitting in his seat, drinking from his glass, bubbling champagne inside. He looked up at her over the edge of his drink and gestured to the seat in front of him. She smiled, perhaps a little nervous, and hesitantly took her seat.

_This is… so weird…_

Buddy was _not _a romantic man, but this night _felt _like it was romantic. The theatre, the flowers, and now the dinner… It was almost strange. Everything was what it should be between a loving couple with an evening for themselves, but a quick glance at Buddy made the fantasy crack. He wasn't looking at her with adoration in his eyes, or with sappy love. In fact, he looked a little bored, and while that saddened her a little bit, it left her with an odd sense of comfort and familiarity. She didn't want this evening to be like that, filled with unrealistic romance. She just wanted it to be… memorable.

"Buddy," she said after a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the fine silverware next to her champagne filled glass.

"Hm?" He looked up at her.

"You don't… You don't have to try so hard," she said after a second's pause. "This is all… so nice, and I appreciate it, but…" She smiled at him. "Buddy… I know you too well, and I know this is a chore to you."

Buddy's eyes widened fractionally with surprise, and then a smirk slowly appeared on his features. He chuckled slightly to himself, lifting his glass to his lips and drinking his champagne, looking at her with amusement. Setting his glass back down, he crossed his arms and looked down at the floor, still laughing. "Ah, Violet," he said, smirking up at her, "you never cease to amaze me."

She gave him a small smile. "I like to keep you on your toes."

He laughed. "Yes, and that is exactly why a chore like this," he gestured to their romantic surroundings, "becomes something I can enjoy."

She arched an eyebrow at him, her smile turning into a smirk. "Should I expect a serenade next?"

"Only if my lady wishes."

Both of them laughed; no matter how many candles were lit, or how many flowers were given, there was no way that they could enjoy a truly romantic evening together like this. It was impossible, and to be frank, unpleasant. It didn't reflect the kind of relationship they had. It wasn't something out of a story, and it definitely didn't promise a happy ending, but it was _their_ relationship, and it was strong in its own way. There were no pet names, no loving remarks. There was no need for those kinds of things. All they needed was each other's presence, and the things that they enjoyed would come of their own accord. Just like in the theatre, the privacy they shared was the most pleasant. The performance had been nice, but leaning against his strong shoulder had been even better. Just leaning. Nothing else, a simple action that anyone else could do. It was that kind of simplicity that their lives were built around.

But at least they could enjoy the food.

"Lady and gentleman," announced Geoffry with a flourish, "I give you, dinner!" He came through with a tray with two covered dishes. He wheeled them over and, with an extravagant, "Ta-dah!" uncovered them, revealing mouth watering prime rib, sliced perfectly and adorned with fresh herbs. Grilled asparagus decorated the sides, and hot mashed potatoes were spooned in perfect portions. He placed their plates before them, bowing as he did so. "Bon appetite," he said, smiling at them. "And don't eat too fast! I have dessert prepared as well!"

"Thank you, Geoffry," said Buddy with a nod. "I appreciate it."

Geoffry nodded, and Violet swore he winked, and then he wheeled away the cart, slipping back into his kitchen.

"_Finally,_" sighed Violet with relief, grabbing up her knife and fork and immediately began slicing up a huge chunk of meat for her to devour. "_Food."_

"Yes," said Buddy as he began to cut his own food, "let's just see if you can retain that primal intellect through the meal."

She was too hungry to even care about his snide remark. Stabbing her food, she shoved the meat into her mouth and chewed and chewed and chewed and savored every single loving flavor that caressed her palette, nearly crying at how delicious it was. She didn't even bother to fully swallow before she began pushing another piece into her mouth.

"Of course," she heard him murmur, but he didn't do anything else, and that was just how she liked it. She could be a pig when she wanted to, and by God, she _wanted._

They ate in relative silence, the only sounds the sounds of dinner and the occasional choking when Violet inhaled something particularly large. But both were too hungry to really talk about anything, so they sat in that comfortable silence, enjoying the company each other gave with just their presences.

After an hour, Violet's plate was completely void of food, and there was still just enough room for desert.

"I wonder what it is," she murmured to herself excitedly. "I hope it's something chocolate. Hershey's… Mmmm…"

"Hold your horses," said Buddy, his own plate cleared. "Just relax and let the meal settle. Dessert isn't going anywhere."

Violet fought down the pout she desperately wanted to do and instead reached for her glass. It was still more than full of champagne; her focus had been on her food and not her drink. And when she did want something, she was reluctant to take more than a few sips. She didn't want to be drunk that night, and she knew that with her weight, she'd lose her head after half a glass.

Buddy seemed to sense what was going on in her head, and took the glass out of her hand. "Geoffry," he called out as he placed the champagne next to his plate, "when you bring in the dessert, can you get Violet some water?"

"Of course, sir," said Geoffry's voice from within the kitchen.

"There." Buddy turned back to her and drank from her own glass. "Problem solved."

Violet sighed at him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read my mind."

He smirked at her. "Violet, you wear your heart out on your sleeve, and those big eyes of yours don't do a good job at hiding your thoughts. But I suppose that to others you could be a bit of an enigma." He swirled his champagne. "It's something I've picked up over the years. You really need to know how to read a person's face, especially when they won't talk to you."

Violet's eyes drew down in slight confusion. "But that's-"

He gave her a look. One look. And she knew immediately that the conversation was over.

_Always closed up…_

She sighed. Of course he would know how to do that.

Geoffry entered again, and not a moment too soon. "I bring dessert!" he called happily as he wheeled in the cart. "Oh, and of course the Miss's water." He smiled at her, setting down her cup. He cleared off their plates, and then he placed their desserts in front of them. "Enjoy!"

Violet looked down, and immediately drooled. "Tiramisu," she breathed as if it were a dream, immediately taking up her dessert fork and cutting into the cake, pushing the dessert into her mouth and dying right then and there.

"Thank you, Geoffry," said Buddy slowly as he watched her practically fawn over her plate, "that will be all for tonight."

Geoffry bowed. "It was my pleasure. Good evening to you both."

"Thanks!" said Violet, her happiness muffled slightly from the food in her mouth.

He laughed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Violet." He pat her slightly on the arm, giving her a special, friendly smile, and she returned it happily. She waved as he left, and then quickly returned to eating her dessert.

Buddy looked at her for a moment, analyzing her silently, and then he looked down at his cake and slowly cut into it. "You look like you've made a friend with Geoffry."

"Yes," she said with a smile, "he is very nice."

"Hm." He stabbed his tiramisu with more than enough effort. "That's nice."

Violet paused in her ministrations, her lips quirking slightly. She looked up at him with a curious, entertained look. "You aren't… jealous, are you?"

He snorted. "Unlikely."

Violet bent her head back down to her plate as to hide the smirk forming on her face. Men. They'd never change.

"Okay," she said, enjoying her dinner with a little fluttering of laughter in her chest. "That's good."

He shot her a look. He knew what was going on in her head. But he had no proof; he couldn't do anything about it. So, she smiled at him sweetly, making his eyes narrow even further, but that was the extent of that 'conversation' and it ended when both returned to their desserts, their minds quickly becoming distracted by the deliciousness of Geoffry's cooking.

After finishing up her plate, Violet was full and content. She sat back in her chair and sighed happily, resting her hand on her bulging stomach. Buddy sat back too, his eyes closed as he let the food settle. Both sat there for the longest time, simply relaxing, enjoying the peace and the feeling of being sated.

And then… Violet's heart began to race.

_What now?_

Slowly, so slowly, she opened her eyes and peered over to Buddy. He was looking up at the ceiling, a calm, almost blank look on his face. Sitting up slowly as to not disturb him, she caught a better look at him, and found herself drawn towards this serene state of his. He looked so peaceful, and for him, that was something that was hard to achieve. She smiled; at least he had this moment to savor.

He must have noticed her, and his eyes suddenly shifted towards her. She froze, unable to move under his intense gaze. All she could hear was the beating of her heart, how each palpitation grew in strength as each second of his eyes lingering on her passed by. She swallowed, a lump of nervousness forming in her throat.

He closed his eyes, and she found herself released from his power. She breathed, putting a shaking hand to her fluttering heart. Damn, a few more moments of that and she would have passed out.

He suddenly began to move, and she snapped to attention. Her eyes followed him as he slowly stood from his chair, adjusting his jacket and brushing himself free of any detritus that lingered. Then, he looked at her again and held out a hand.

She looked at his hand, and found herself struck dumb. This single action was proving to be too much for her at that moment.

He rolled his eyes. "We can't very well stay here all night. Come on, we'll go up to my room."

Violet swallowed.

_His room._

Her heart was going to explode from her chest, she could just feel it. Her limbs were practically aching from all of the nerves going through her body at that moment, but somehow she managed to get out of her chair and place her shaking hand into his.

When his hand wrapped around hers, suddenly all of her fears disappeared. The feeling of him sent soothing waves through her, as if his endless strength was being transferred into her. She smiled up at him gratefully; she wondered if he knew he had this kind of affect on her.

The trip to his room was uneventful, but just like every other time she went up to his private place, a feeling of excitement and anticipation built. Knowing that she was one of very few people that had ever seen the inside of that room made her feel special, but knowing that she would be alone with him in that private room made all of the fluttering in her chest in stomach come to life. Their secret relationship was hard at times because they couldn't do things together in places were there were others to see, and finding time to be alone to do the things that they wanted to do was hard. So, being able to be with him without threat of interruption was always a treat she looked forward to.

"I love your room," she said, fully aware that she had told him this more than once. "I wish my room was like this. Giant bed, personal bathroom, freaking huge television!" She pointed to all of his happily before dancing over to the lounging area and flopping down on the couch, kicking her heels off. "It's all so amazing!"

"Thank you," she heard him say before hearing the sound of the door close.

The door lock clicking into place followed.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her hand went to her stomach; a flush of desire had hit her at the knowledge that she was alone with him without any disturbances. No interruptions.

Nothing to stop them.

_This is… supposed to be the night that can't ever be forgotten. _She took in a shaking breath, her heart fluttering as she heard footsteps approaching. _And I know… I know that this is… is what I want… but I… _

She closed her eyes.

_I'm so afraid._

A hand brushed against the top of her head, but she didn't open her eyes. She remained in the darkness, focusing everything on the feeling of his fingers gently caressing her soft hair. Then, the sofa creaked a little, and his lips softly kissed her forehead. It was then she opened her eyes, looking up at the strong face above her. She couldn't stop herself; she reached out and cupped his chin, staring into those beautiful blue eyes of his, tracing each and every line on his face, describing every freckle, memorizing every contour. Then, ever so gently, she brought his face down again and kissed him, moving her hand upwards to stroke his smooth cheek.

His mouth was soft and warm, and each movement he made was precise and elegant, perfect in every way. She sat up slightly, pressing her lips closer to his, moving under him, holding him close, trying to get as much as she could out of this moment, savoring it with every ounce of her trembling body.

Hesitantly, she let him go, his face sliding from her fingertips. She watched him walk around the couch, sitting beside her, his eyes filled with a hidden, intense emotion. He slowly reached out, tracing her jaw, and she closed her eyes, feeling each movement of his calloused fingers. His hand went to her hair, and with a small click, he removed the clip and set it aside, letting her hair fall freely. He breathed out a sigh and began petting her softly, her glossy locks shinning slightly in the moonlit room.

She lied down next to him, placing her head in his lap as he gently brushed her hair with his fingers. Mindlessly, her hand went to his knee and moved in small circles, matching his movements. They sat there in silence, each falling into the comfort of one another's ministrations. It was relaxing, and on any other night, that would have been enough for her.

But this wasn't any other night. This was _the _night. And she wasn't going to let that get away from her.

She sat up, startling him for a moment. She got up to her knees and leaned forward, kissing him once again, but as she did so, she shifted above him, straddling him and sitting down on his lap. She heard him grunt slightly and she felt his hands go to her hips. She began to shake when she realized the edge of her dress was coming up, and she knew that if he looked down, he would see what was underneath.

"Relax," he murmured against her lips, his hands gently rubbing up and down her sides. She felt each moment, shivers following in their path, and slowly she relaxed, resting her full weight against him. Her eyes widened when she felt him underneath her.

_That's…_

"Oh…" Buddy broke away from her, taking in a heaving breath. His hands were clenching her hips, almost to the point of pain. She tried to wriggle away from it. A moan rose up from him, and she felt his hips pivot beneath her. She gasped at the friction, and a whimper fell from her lips, her whole body shuddering.

"Up," commanded Buddy suddenly, and she swiftly obeyed. He stood beside her and quickly grasped her wrist, and before she knew what was happening, she was pulled against him, his mouth thrusting itself against hers. She groaned immediately, her mind whirling as he slanted his lips across hers, holding her to him as he devoured her. She felt his tongue swipe across her lips and she opened her mouth, granting him access.

His tongue battled against hers, swirling against it, overpowering her. Hesitantly, she pushed back against him, and he accepted, both of them moving against one another as they fought for dominance. She tasted dinner and the bitterness of his champagne. She ran her tongue across the roof of his mouth, and he groaned, fighting back, pushing against her lips almost painfully.

Suddenly, she felt the edge of the bed hit the back of her legs and realized they had made their way across the room. At the sudden realization, she broke away from him, gasping.

"Buddy," she breathed, "Buddy, I-"

"It's alright." His voice was husky. "I understand. We can… take things slow. I know you're not…" He looked away. "Experienced."

She gave him a gentle smile. "Thank you."

He looked back at her, and returned her smile. She sighed inwardly; she was making things so hard for him, she knew it.

She looked at the front of his jacket. He still wore it, even though she knew it was uncomfortable for him. She began to unbutton it for him.

He jumped slightly. "Wait, Violet-"

She shushed him. "You need to relax," she mimicked, echoing his words from before, smirking up at him as she undid the last button and slid the black fabric from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor. She reached for another button, the top one to his dress shirt. That was where he stopped her, his hand coming up and grasping hers, keeping it in place. She looked up at him, startled slightly.

"Vi," he said softly, "that can wait."

Her eyes widened, her mind registering the soft sentiment of her name that only those close to her heart said. During that shock, she felt herself being lowered onto the bed, her head sinking into the pillows behind her.

"Turn onto your stomach," he asked.

A touch of nervousness returned, but she complied. She trusted Buddy, and she knew that whatever he did, she would love it.

"We'll take things slow," he said, his voice a warm murmur. "We have all the time in the world."

Two hands came down and rested on her back, causing her to tense suddenly. Her skin shivered at the contact and her breath stopped completely as his fingers began to move slightly.

_Oh…_

Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers pushed into her tired muscles, chasing away her aches and pains, relaxing her body. His hands moved up, undoing all of the knots of tension in her neck and shoulders, unweaving and unraveling her. Slowly, her mind began to drift, all barriers and walls surrounding her mind dissipating under the magnificent movements of his hands.

"How do you feel?" he murmured, his hands still moving.

"Mmmmm," was her perfectly acceptable reply.

"Good." He kneaded his thumbs over the backs of her shoulders before he moved his hands down her arms, pulling them from their place at her sides and folding upwards so that Violet could rest her head on them. Gently caressing his way back to her shoulders, he continued working, ridding her body of all tension. It was absolutely wonderful, mind floating as every ache faded from her whilst a serene calm began to fog her mind. She began to drift, fading in and out of warm sensations and light. She was entirely content and a smile traced her lips as complete peace crept closer to cover her and send her off towards a wonderful world without any name.

Then, his hands began to move down and she wakened slightly as his fingers traced slowly down her spine. Her skin tingled and her body shivered as his hands still kept moving, creeping further and further down, his fingers fanning out, brushing the edges of her ribs, the top of her stomach, the curve of her hip that was so dangerously close to the ache that was beginning to awaken.

She blinked hard, swallowing as her heart sped up, all peace completely erased from her mind, the feeling quickly being replaced anticipation and driving desire.

"Buddy-"

"Sssshhh," was all that he said before his hands moved upwards, his fingers taking the small delicate zipper of her dress and drawing it down slowly. The sound of the zipper grinding as it moved stimulated her thoughts and her desires, and also drew out the nervousness that was laced in each shiver, each shake.

She felt the fabric of her dress fall open and slip down her sides. She shivered, her back exposed to the cold of the night. Then, warm, calloused fingers brushed against her bare flesh. She jumped and buried her face into her arms, biting hard down on her lip as his touch caressed up and down either side of her, tracing up and down. He would move up slowly, the tips of his fingers just a hair's breath away from her bra before they would retreat and make their way back down. His touch would brush just beyond the top of her buttocks, and then the process would repeat. Each movement was the same, up and down, close but not there. Eventually she began to relax once more, the fog returning as he continued.

Suddenly, he stopped.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice too loud in the silence of the room.

The feeling of sleep slid off of her sluggishly as his words registered in her mind. When she realized what he had said, she lifted her head, pushing her cascading hair out of her eyes and over her shoulder. Her tired eyes blinked at him, and she smiled softly before putting her head back into her arms, closing her eyes.

"Of course I do."

She felt him shift. "Alright," was all he said, and then his hands began to move once more, tracing up and down again, leading her back into wonderful, wonderful peace. Up, down, up, down, up-

Up and up and up and not stopping.

Her eyes opened slightly, her heart skipping a beat.

_Do you trust me?_

And then they widened as she realized he was unhooking her bra.

She froze, a shuddering breath forced out of her. Her toes curled as an intense heat welled within her abdomen as thoughts and images flooded through her mind, all of it highlighted by the extreme fear that refused to leave her.

"Just relax," he murmured, his voice reaching her beyond her conflicted thoughts, "and let me take care of you."

Those words… They were filled with so much concern and a desire to make her happy. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew this. She didn't need to be so afraid. Slowly, she relaxed, sinking back into the bed. She didn't even move as he hands slowly began to move up her back once more, pushing away the back of her bra so that he could run his hand over the skin of her back. She closed her eyes as a delicious tension began to build within her whilst relaxing tingles rushed down her spine.

"Violet," said Buddy, his voice rumbling against her, "I…" He stopped, his words lingering in the air. She raised her head slightly, looking at him, seeing his darkened eyes. She swallowed; she could feel his desire emanating from his form. His eyes caught hers, and his mouth opened once again. "I…" He paused briefly, and his gaze became… intense, insistent. And his voice… It was pleading.

"Please."

_Please…_

One word. One simple word, and it held so many other words behind it. It held words and thoughts and feelings and swirling desires and delicious warmth that traveled up and down her, through her heart and over her head. It was the signal towards the groundbreaking moment that would define this night, the night that was to be engrained into her mind forever.

She closed her eyes. She felt his warmth upon her, his weight, his aura that was radiating the same open craving that had been building over weeks upon weeks. And while her heart still beat rapidly in her chest, she could not ignore her feelings for him, and the desires she held with those precious emotions.

_Please…_

Tonight… Tonight was the night. But if she really wanted, she could go back now. She could say no, walk away, turn her back on everything and be free, _free…_

The frail little vision in the back of her mind wept.

_Please… Please don't do this…_

And then, it was gone, swept away, dissolving under each and every beat of her longing heart.

No… She couldn't go back. She _wouldn't _go back. This night was hers, his, _theirs, _and she had no intention on letting it slip through her grasp.

Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him, her gaze betraying her answer before she even said it.

Something crossed his eyes, something powerful. Then, he nodded, and his gaze grew dark as he slowly got off of her, pushing on her shoulder. She turned around, lying down on her back, her hair fanning out behind her. His eyes never left hers as his hand reached over and slowly began to pull her dress from her body. She felt the liquid like fabric slide across her chest, her stomach, over her hips and down her thighs, and then it was gone completely, tossed across the room, landing with a whisper. She shivered, her body exposed to the cold and to his eyes. She didn't dare look at him; she didn't want to see what he thought of her body.

"No," he said sharply, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to face him. "Don't look away from me."

His eyes bore into hers, digging out her soul and pulling it out of her, forcing her to bare herself to him. She watched his gaze drift and felt his eyes caress her skin. She could almost imagine the touch of his eyes as they caressed every part of her, going across every curve, every rise and fall of her bones and muscles.

"Buddy…" He was beginning to make her nervousness return with all of this analyzing and scrutinizing.

He chuckled at her. "Relax," he said again, his voice smooth like velvet. "You are beautiful. Don't feel nervous."

"But I'm so thin," she complained, "and I don't have…" She looked despondently down at her chest. She wasn't as well endowed as she had hoped.

Buddy shook his head at her, and then covered her with his body as he slid above her, resting his arms on either side of her. "Don't do that," he said, the fabric of his clothes tickling against her skin. "Don't ever doubt yourself. It clashes unbecomingly with your personality."

Violet blushed, some out of embarrassment, some out of shame. "I-I'm sorry-"

He laughed fully now. "See? There you go again." He shook his head again, giving her a smirk. "Please. Don't do that." He kissed her gently on the lips. "Please."

His words rang through her heart, and her emotions for him swelled. His sincerity, his kindness, they were all little treasures that she was finally able to see. They were opening up and pouring all over her, cascading across her soul with crisp, fresh, sparkling splashes. It was too much…

Tears shimmered in her eyes. "Buddy," she whispered before taking his face into her hands and drawing him down, their lips crashing together, meeting with one cataclysmic explosion of emotions and desire. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him to her as he kissed her deeply, lips and tongue and teeth mashing together as they tried to take out every single pent up lust and longing that was building higher and higher.

Her hands found the front of his shirt and her fingers began to fumble with the buttons. She couldn't get them undone; her mind was too hazy, too wired. His own hands pushed hers away and with one tug, he ripped his shirt off, buttons flying. He flung the fabric away and descended upon her again, her hands already undoing his belt, drawing the fine leather out of the loops of his pants and tossing it to the far side of the room.

Clothes fell away one by one, drawn off of their bodies by the other with shaking hands. Each one felt the other's yearnings, and they moved together, each kiss, each lick, each bite small little acts of desperation that were taking them towards what they both needed. Together, with hands moving and whispers breathed, the bedspread was flung aside and the sheets beneath them danced as their naked bodies came together, sweat and skin sliding against one another as they shook with anticipation. Fingers clawed down his back, teeth bit into her shoulder as they found the places that drew them towards their centers of pleasure. It was all coming down, everything sinking into the single moment that both had been waiting for since the very first time they touched hands, met eyes, breathed names.

She felt him against her. His body was above her, his arms beside her. She held onto him as he whispered out soft words of warning. He was pressing forward, and the tears began to fall. Her heart was breaking, unable to take the intensity of her love for him, the passion that was exploding from her chest. She sobbed as he completed her, filling the empty void within her, the pain eliciting a cry as the tears fell down her cheeks, his groan melding with her, intertwining as both reveled the moment where the world died and they found salvation in the other's embrace.

He moved like the waves of the ocean, burned within her like the flames that enveloped her heart. The sheets caressed her burning skin, catching the sweat and the tears, holding her as her nails dug into the fabric as he moved atop of her, her name falling from his lips over and over as each thrust pushed them further and further. Tensions were building, her Heaven humming, and his name was added to the music, her mantra as his hands surrounded her hips, raising her up. Her legs wrapped around him, drawing him further, both of them drowning, falling as everything began to peak, the bed groaning, her eyes stinging, muscles clenching, thrusting into her over and over until she snapped.

She screamed his name, her back arching off the bed as her completion came crashing down upon her, shattering her completely. She reached out, holding onto life, afraid of the death that threatened to consume her as she rode out the blinding passion. The sheets, his arm, his face, the pillows, _anything _to keep her here, in this moment, with this man above her, shuddering as he too shook above her, her name falling from him in a guttural, passionate groan, his strong arms pulling her thin body to his as he came.

Slowly, very slowly, he began to lower himself, and then his arms gave way and he collapsed on top of her, his sweat covered chest meeting with hers. She draped her shaking arm across the top of his back, drawing in gulping breaths as her vision began to return. She felt him breathing above her, his throat sounding raspy. In her deeply sated state, she began to lazily draw her fingertips across the multitudes of scars across his back, old and new. He shifted a little at this touch and rose to rest on his arms.

He looked so… content. As if everything that he wanted in the world had been given to him. And in that happiness, she saw vulnerability. The way his eyes were drooped, his hair slick and mussed up with sweat, and that gentle, boyish smile that graced his features… They were all visions that were held for her and her only, and she savored the look, locking it away for all eternity.

He reached out and brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. "You were… exquisite," he said after a moment.

Even after what they had done, Violet still found herself blushing with embarrassment. "Um… Thanks…"

He moved away from her, pulling out of her, and a small shiver of delight ran up her spine. He drew the covers over them before pulling her small frame to him, wrapping his arms around her. She tucked her head under his chin, feeling the safety and warmth of his presence drawing her towards sleep that was quickly rushing towards her.

However, a single thought arose in her mind, and a cold feeling hit her.

"Buddy," she said, her voice laced with fear, "we didn't… We didn't protect ourselves…"

He shifted a little. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot." He moved a little further and she heard the drawer to his nightstand open up. Suddenly, his hand was in front of her face, a small little pill in his fingers. "Take this."

She took it with a bit of confusion. "Um…"

"It will make sure we don't run into any… unwanted complications."

"Oh." She looked at it, once again marveled at the things Buddy could get his hands on, and then popped it into her mouth, swallowing it easily. She settled back against him, feeling much less worried.

A smirk spread across her face.

"Buddy Pine, you _knew _this was going to happen, didn't you?"

A pause.

"…Perhaps."

She chuckled, and then out right laughed before draping her arm across his chest, nuzzling his neck. "I should have known." She yawned, her eyes heavy. "Goodnight."

She felt his lips kiss the top of her head. "Goodnight."

As she began to fall into sleep, she wondered briefly if this was the time to actually give her feelings words. Say, "I love you." But something told her to stop, something that was resting in the corner of her mind, shaking it's head sadly at the pale moon. And so, she drifted off, falling away into the darkness of slumber.

But… one remained awake. And he was looking out of the window into that same dark night. His eyes were conflicted, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. His eyes closed, a moment passing, silence infiltrating the large, spacious room.

Then, they opened, and a dark, satisfied look permeated his face. A matching smirk shone against the lunar beams. One chuckle, and then the man, too, went to sleep, leaving behind an ill feeling that slowly dissipated, fading away into the night.


	21. Prom Night Part One

A/N: The time has come… Where's a drumroll when you need one?

This is the last chapter, split into two parts due to it's sheer size (over 23,000 words)! The perspective between Buddy and Violet will change. More warnings, but what do you expect? Mature means Mature Content (even though at times it's delivered in a very Immature way) lol.

Alright, folks, here we go…

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Prom Night (Part One)**

"_Under your spell again, I can't say no to you."_

"_Good Enough," by Evanescence_

* * *

A hand was gently caressing her arm, rubbing up and down in a soft, steady motion. It drew her out of the darkness of sleep, and she turned her bleary eyes, looking over her shoulder and into a face that seemed contemplative, peaceful. She turned a little more to face him, his hand withdrawing. She looked up at him curiously, slightly tilting her head.

"Whatcha thinking?" she asked.

A pause, and then Buddy shrugged a little. "I don't know," he said, his eyes following the curve of the sheet that rose and fell over her small, womanly body. "I guess I'm just… relaxing." His hand came out again, slowly brushing across the smooth scar on the inside of her arm. She closed her eyes, recalling the pain, the agony, and then his soothing expression that made all the pain go away. Even then he was making her feel so good, his thumb drawing small circles into her skin.

"Mmmm," she murmured, "that's nice…"

He chuckled and withdrew his hand. Her eyes popped open and she glared at him, knowing full well he only did that because it would irritate her. And it did.

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. She watched his muscles ripple and stretch, the morning light accenting the multiple scars across his skin, and longer, redder marks from her nails. She looked away, a hot blush washing across her face. Unconsciously, she hid her hands beneath the sheets.

"I suppose I should get into the shower," he said as he got out of bed. Violet froze, keeping her eyes pinned on the other side of the room. She knew that he was just as naked as she was, and despite all that they had been through and had done, she couldn't bear to look at him; it was just too embarrassing.

She heard the rustling of the sheets as they left his body, and the smallest puff of air from the mattress as he got up, and then his whole presence disappeared. It left her confused, and she couldn't help but look back over, wondering where the heck he had gone. She leaned forward a bit to see if he had gone into his closet, but she hadn't heard anything, and the door was closed-

Hot breath hit her ear. "You could join me you know." His velvety voice caressed the sensitive skin of her neck, and shivers went up and down her spine. A wave of heat hit her, the insinuation of his words causing all sorts of delicious mental images to flood her mind.

She bit her lip. Should she? She just got up, and she didn't know if she should join him after last night. It might be too much for her-

His hand slipped under the sheets, and her answer was clear.

An hour later, they got out, and then he had pulled her back in, falling into the shower with a shriek followed by his low chuckle. Another hour after _that, _and they finally managed to get out of the bathroom, their skin pink and clean. And while those two hours had been very… enjoyable, it left Violet with very little time to get ready for the day.

A glance at the clock, and she realized with horror she had _no _time.

"Oh _no!_ I'm supposed to be home by noon! Buddy, if I don't get there in time, I'm going to be in deep trouble!"

"What's the big deal?" he asked, pulling his pants on, his orange hair hanging down his face, still damp from the shower. "So what if you're a few minutes late?"

She managed to shoot him a glare as she pulled on her pajama pants; she had forgotten to pack extra clothes. "What's the big deal? _What's the big deal? _The big deal is I'm going to be late, and then they're going to ask me why, and I won't be able to come up with a reasonable answer because I've _never _been late from coming back from Kari's house! Besides, I have things I have to do before prom tonight, and I can't afford to get my ride around town angry with me!"

She finished pulling her shirt over her head, smoothing it out as best as she could. She looked down at herself and sighed sullenly. She knew her mother would be cross at her for coming back dressed like this.

Buddy had a derisive quirk to his lips as he buttoned his shirt, each movement sharp and swift. "Yes. The _prom." _His eyes drew down with scathing sarcasm, his expression weaving into his voice. "So, what dunderhead has the honor of taking you to this _fine _event?"

She sent him a sharp look, twisting her mouth at him out of aggravation. "You really are a buzzkill, aren't you?"

He looked up at her, and then his bad mood turned sour, his smirk turning dangerous. "I'm only like this when _little boys _are involving themselves in _my business."_

Violet had to physically stop herself from jumping back from the ferocity of his words. It was clear he was jealous, but jealousy matched with unlimited power, unlimited temper, and a not so unlimited amount of tolerance wasn't a very good combo. In fact, it was dangerous, deadly, and unpredictable, and it reminded Violet to make sure that she kept a close eye on her date and all the places he went to later on that evening.

"Buddy," she said, swallowing down the shakiness that kept rising up into her throat, "he's just a date. That's it." Saying the words urged her to act the role to enforce them. She tried to be as casual and indifferent as she could, but with his glare hitting her full force, it was more than just difficult- it was _painful. _

"That's it, huh?" he said sardonically.

"Yes," she said firmly, turning away from him and focusing on packing her things into her bag. "This prom is very important to me. It's the only dance I ever wanted to attend, and I only get to do it twice in my life. And while I would much rather go with someone else…" She looked up at him briefly before turning her attention back to her bag. "My tastes in men are… not so acceptable. So, I had to get someone else to take me."

"Who?" he asked brusquely.

She couldn't stop the look of displeasure on her face. "Joshua Bartelli."

His expression went from angry to entertained in a flash. He looked at her for a moment, almost staring, and then he crossed his arms slowly, an amused smirk forming on his face, an eyebrow arching slightly. "The boy who drew all over your shirt?"

"That's an exaggeration… but yeah. That's the boy."

She heard a strangled laugh come from him. One look, and he had the decency to stop himself from letting his amusement get the best of him. He cleared his throat, and then strode amiably around the room, a confident look on his face. It wasn't lost on Violet the reason why he was in such a good mood now.

_Men, _she thought crossly to herself. _They're all the same: bigheaded and competitive._

Swiftly, she gathered up her articles of clothing that were scattered across the floor and mingling with his things. Briefly, she had a moment of embarrassment when she slid her socks from underneath his boxers, but the desire to get home was greater than her humiliation. Besides, she'd have _plenty_ of time to mull over what happened later.

_Not so sure… I'm looking forward to that…_

She picked up her bag and turned to him, fisting a hand on her hip. "I'm ready to go now," she said curtly, halting him in his path.

"Of course, of course." He opened the door to the room with a command and stood by it, holding out his hand, gesturing her to go first. She rolled her eyes at him, but went anyway. Passing by him, she felt his hand slide down her backside, and she slapped it away, glaring at him.

"What?" he shrugged. "I've been waiting for months now. You can't expect me to stop now that-"

"You'd think you'd have your fill after last night- _and _this morning," she mumbled angrily, a hot blush spreading across her cheeks.

He gave her a deviant's smirk, his eyebrow quirking slightly. "Oh no," he said with a mischievous whisper, "that was just the beginning."

An unbidden rush of desire hit her, and she had to physically pull herself away from his gravitational aura. Stumbling back, she straightened her back almost painfully so, and spun around on the ball of her heel, beginning a sharp, firm pace towards the garage.

"Are you sure, Vi? I'm sure we could come up with a pretty good excuse…"

She wouldn't look back. She _wouldn't. look. back. _She wouldn't- _couldn't-_ and she kept walking, her feet practically slamming into the carpet, forcing her onwards, her whole body shaking as her conscious began to split in half. One was dead set on getting into his car and bolting for her house, while the other half… The other half was clawing at the carpet, straining to reach the man who was casually standing behind her, leaning against the doorframe with a smug look on his face.

"I know you want to," he said smoothly.

_It's not a matter of wanting, _she thought to herself grittily, her muscles tensed, her jaw locked as she reached the stairs. _It's a matter of right and wrong. Right and wrong, dammit!_

But wasn't that line crossed long ago? Long, long ago, beyond the indecency. The line had been crossed, cut, and cleared over when she had gone back and defended his position at school. _That _was wrong, and she did it anyway to fulfill her own selfish desires.

Was this any different?

She stopped at the top of the stairs, her fingers digging into the smooth wood railing. She could still feel his presence behind her, unmoving and just as confident.

"Well?"

She took a deep breath, her body relaxing for a moment, and then she let it out, turning back towards him, setting her bag down slowly. She walked quietly towards him, watching him with unblinking eyes as she approached, his position never changing. She got up close, looking up into his eyes, his hand snaking around her waist just as she stopped, her own arm sliding up his arm, around his neck, her lips coming up close-

She stopped just before she kissed him. "After the dance," she whispered, feeling his body shiver when her hot, sensuous, tone caressed him like summer rain. "After the dance… I'm all yours."

His grip tightened around her, pulling her in close. She closed her eyes, the ability to keep them open lost when she felt his frustration against her. His fingers were twitching against the flesh on her back, and she heard him take in a small, sharp breath.

"Alright," he said after a moment. "I will hold you to your word."

She felt a smile creep up as he slowly let her go. "Alright," she said, looking at him with a slightly flustered expression, "then let's get going."

He nodded, a small glimmer of what was burning inside of him slipping out from behind his eyes, hitting her, warning her as to what he was going to do to her when they were alone. It was but a moment, but in that small, brief flicker, she knew- she _knew _that he would make sure that promise was fulfilled… and perhaps she might come to regret it.

She shivered. Oh, she would regret it. She would regret the _hell _out of it.

* * *

He dropped her off a few blocks from her house with a few minutes to spare. She gave him a brief kiss goodbye- a sweet temptation that nearly caused him to pull her back into the car and into the back seat- and then she was off, jogging to her house. He watched her go, and then a curious little voice in his head told him that this was going to be the last time he would have to do this. There would be no more need for this trivial chasing and hiding and silly sleuthing. He wouldn't have to watch her run off towards her precious family again, or have to see her off without having his thirst quenched. No, that time was drawing to a close, and as he saw the curtains slide shut, he felt a swelling of pride and excitement come up into his chest, threatening to burst forth.

_After all this time… this work, the long nights, the _years _spent agonizing over those who have wronged me… _

An evil grin split his face.

_I will _finally _get my revenge._

It hadn't turned out exactly as he had planned it, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He had gained something in the end, and even though he had a slight feeling- nothing much, just a barely noticeable prodding in the back of his head that could be ignored without a second thought- that perhaps, maybe Violet would bring him a bit of trouble, the upsides to her being around greatly outweighed any consequences that could possibly come his way.

"No," he said to himself as he made a u-turn and headed back to his house, "she won't be a problem. Maybe for the first couple of days, but after that…"

He knew the power he had over her. He'd be able to chase away her sorrows with just a touch. That was all it took for her to melt at her feet, leaving her open to his lustful manipulations. It was perfect, vulnerability with a smile.

"All that and more will be mine after this _prom." _He spat out the name with bitter distaste. Twilight Memories. Damn him and his moments of weakness and idiocy. And damn that Bartelli kid for thinking he had a change with her, even though he clearly didn't and would have better luck with a can of Crisco.

_Although I'm sure they're already very well acquainted, _he thought with a cynically humored tone.

He had poured forth an ungodly amount of money for this damned get together, even paying for all of the kids' tickets. All they had to say was, "Uh, yeah, sure, I'll go," and there went a hundred bucks out of his pocket. And because teenagers those days were incredibly lazy and greedy, Buddy found his pockets becoming increasingly lighter with each little non-committal shrug the hormonal-driven, pimple-popping idiots made.

And Mr. Bartelli had been amongst them. _He _was paying for Violet's date- a date _he _was _not a part of._

His hands clenched his steering wheel, the leather creaking. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as he stared down at the road, unaware of the red haze that was slowly filtering into his vision.

"That isn't the focus," he growled to himself, a weak effort to get his mind off of the insane amount of rage and jealously that was practically eating away at his brain. "Focus on the goal… Focus on your reward for being so _fucking_ hospitable…"

He felt a little better. A little. Not nearly enough to stop him from barreling on through a red light, nearly causing two cars to slam into each other.

_I hope that little bastard was in one of those._

He swore to himself that he would _never _do something like this _ever again. EVER. _Because if he did, he was fairly confident that he would be unable to stop himself from unleashing untold horrors on anything that dared to breathe. And that included himself. It was a better fate than being turned into a mindless ninny who went around granting magical fucking miracles to complete nimrods who didn't deserve the hours of time and attention and money being dumped into an event that would be unappreciated and forgotten, the thrill of having their first bang with their date taking the spot known as 'memorable.' That was all that mattered to them, and that was all that this thing was for. He knew it, they knew it, the whole damn world knew it.

And that included Bartelli.

"Oh… You better not…" A dark, dangerous, frighteningly powerful glare filled his eyes, the haze of red becoming a thick fog as uncontrolled rage began to consume him. "You better not even _think _of doing that with her…" A chuckle fell from him, filled with loathing and poison and a promise of death and blood. "You do… and that will be the end of your short, pathetic life."

Violet was _his. _And no _child_ was going to change that.

When Syndrome got back home, he arrived in a fury that swept the entire household. All of his workers made sure to stay far away from him as he thundered to his lab. Even Emily made sure to keep her distance, making sure that no one even breathed a word in his direction. When he was like this, he became dangerous, and no matter who you were, you made sure you stayed out of his path… or else.

The lab door slammed shut, and he stood in the darkness for a long time, savoring it. Then, he snapped his fingers, and white, artificial light filled the room in small intervals. He crossed quickly to his lab bench, his eyes pinned on the suitcase sitting on top of it. He reached out and touched it, feeling the power underneath, the long hours spent-

-_days and weeks and months nurturing her, caring for her, making sure she was so beautiful, so _beautiful _when he finally took hold of her and _used _her-_

"This…" He whispered harshly to himself. "This… is blood. This is sweat. This is tears. And she…" A harsh chuckle echoed through the room. "She… is my beautiful tool." He gently touched the leather of the case. "They both are, in fact." He laughed to himself as he pulled away, folding his hands together behind his back. "How ironic. And yet…" He paused. "She has… taken so much from me, more than just blood, sweat, and tears. She has taken…"

Another pause. He looked down at the ground, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. Then, a slow smirk stretched across his face, his eyes glinting madly in the light.

"She's taken… my sanity…"

Syndrome threw his head back and laughed at the absurdity of it all. Stealing sanity from an already insane person was like trying to draw water out of a dry well. Although, there was some order to his mad thoughts. Perhaps that was where she had made her niche, where she had burrowed herself deep into his mind, forcing him to think of her, desire her, _long _for her. And it was more than just physically. If it wasn't, then there wouldn't be the incessant desire to make her happy, or the protectiveness he felt towards her, or even the small, incomprehensible feeling of pity he felt when he realized she would be very alone, very soon.

"My precious, precious butterfly," he murmured, sinking into a chair, his fingers sliding through his hair, tangling themselves as he pulled, the pain sharpening his thoughts. "All the cards have been dealt, and you have _so many _of them…"

He laughed, pulling harder as he spun around in his chair, his insane cackles echoing off the ceiling.

"But I… I have the ace! And you… You cannot win without me."

He heard the click of a phone, and then a familiar voice filtered around him, making his grin widen.

"_Monsieur Syndrome. Everything haz been prepared. Zey won't know what hit zem."_

Syndrome chuckled, long and low. "Of course not," he said with an amused growl, "they're entering a game they've never even played." His chuckling continued deep in his chest, his eyes sliding towards the case sitting beside him, the leather colorless in the pale light.

"And the only ace in the hole they had is _mine."_

* * *

"I really don't understand you," said her mother as she pulled into their driveway. "First, you come home in your pajamas. Next, you wander around the house, bumping into nearly everyone. Then, when we go shopping for those curlers you wanted, you say you don't want them anymore!" She huffed as she parked the car. "Really Vi, you're acting like you don't want to go anymore!" She looked over to her, a worried expression on her face. "You've been doing so well! Please don't tell me you're getting back into that elmo faze again."

"Er… I think you meant to say 'emo'…"

"Whatever it is! I don't even care!" Helen placed a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," said Violet, giving her mother a small smile. "I'm okay. Thank you."

Helen remained unconvinced; it was all in her eyes. But she knew better than to push her daughter. The only thing that would result from that would be total isolation. So, she reluctantly nodded, forcing a smile onto her face.

"Alright," she said. "If you say so."

Violet thanked her mother silently for not prodding. She grabbed up the bags of things they had gone out and bought that afternoon and got out of the car. After putting everything away, she visited a little with the family. Her father was busy with a new project (it looked like some sort of cup holder, even though he insisted it was a bird house), played a little with Jak Jak, and challenged Dash to a quick racing video game. It was nice, natural, and for a little while, it was as if the last two months never happened. It was all the way back to the beginning, the morning of March 16, and she was still that dark, lost, depressed girl who couldn't go through a the harshness of life without taking up a razor. And even though she had cut and bled, she was still free. And she was closer to her family, a family that she loved with all her heart.

Now, she was chained to a man, unable to do anything without him. She was following him down a path that was dragging her further and further away from her parents, and even though she knew this, she continued, freely distancing herself from them in order to get closer to him. She was happy and content to be bound forever to him, and to be controlled by him brought her more satisfaction than the sight of blood had formally brought her. In a way, she was healthier, but in some aspects, perhaps things were not so different. It was a trade off, and she wasn't so certain if it had been an equal exchange.

Her mind became distracted from the game. She heard Dash call out with glee as he sped past her, but she was focused on the growing feeling of trepidation in her chest. Was she making the wrong decision? She knew that once upon a time, she hated Buddy with all her heart, but now her heart was his. Would she even be able to notice if something was wrong? Or would her feelings for him numb any sensations of pain or sorrow?

_Violet… _

It was the voice of the tortured soul lingering within the depths of her mind. It was shivering, hunched over, clutching something to it's chest, rocking back and forth.

_You promised… You promised you wouldn't…_

There was something she was forgetting. There was a deeper promise, something running through her bones. She couldn't pin it, her thoughts scattered, and whenever she thought she had it, images of him would whisper, drawing her away. And through it all, a long, agonizing feeling was pulsing through her, as if it was a cry of pain turned into a physical sensation that wracked her body. She felt something horrible clench when she heard the distant laughter of her brother.

_That's gone, _whispered the shattered girl. _That's all gone…_

Her stomach churned, her vision swaying. Her heart was thudding in her chest, a horrible feeling crawling upwards through her limbs, swirling inside her skull. Visions of her family washed over her, echoes of laughter and joy becoming muted and dull as they lost color and drowned into the darkness that was collecting around the broken sobs from the huddled vision within her.

_So stupid… You're so stupid, Violet…!_

Dash's fist punched her arm, knocking her out of her reverie. She dropped her controller, looking up at Dash with a dumb expression as he danced around her, shaking his butt.

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, punching his fists into the air. "Uh huh, who's number one? Who's number one? Hahah! You lost! You-" He stopped in mid step, staring down at her with a confused expression. He dropped all feelings of pride and victory, tilting his head at her as his eyes drew down. "Vi? What's wrong? You look… sick."

"I… I think I am," she said slowly, her eyes slowly brushing across her body, over her arms, down her legs. She saw that she still existed, but did she really? Was the Violet she thought she knew still here? Or was that a lie? Were all those horrible feelings and images real? Was she actually blind, and that was the real reality? Where they all _dead? _Was _she?_

_No, _she whispered to herself. _You're not dead. Those feelings you have for him are real, and they are just as true and passionate as the feelings you have for your family. You're not dead. _

A breath fell out of her with a whoosh, and she relaxed. No, she was over thinking things again. Sure, her parents were going to be upset when they found out, but… but it wasn't going to mark the end of the world. They would forgive her, and they would accept in due time, and they would be alive, and she would be alive, and the darkness wouldn't come back and scare her like that again. She wouldn't let it.

_And neither will he._

"Vi?"

She blinked. She had been staring up at Dash for the past minute.

"Holy moley," he said slowly, shaking his head at her, "you really _are _crazy."

She turned her nose up at him. "Sweet little brother, my butt."

"I never said I was," he replied with a snide tone.

She shot him a smirk and then got up, smoothing out her pants. "Alright," she declared as she stretched her arms over her head, "time for me to get ready."

"Awww! Just one more game?" He grinned. "Whooping your butt is so much fun!"

She smacked him in the arm, and he returned the favor. She glared at him and did it again. Before she knew it, they were racing around the house, tackling each other to the ground and wrestling each other, screaming and laughing. It wasn't long before their parents came in and told them to knock it off. For a moment, they reluctantly pulled apart, downcast, and then, all of a sudden, their mom and dad double teamed them, pinning them down and tickling them until their ribs ached and dots danced in their vision.

"Stop, stop!" Dash kicked his feet, tears streaming down his face. "I'm going to pee my pants!"

"Whoops Don't want that!" Helen got up, laughing while she watched Dash race off towards the bathroom. Bob laughed too, but he wasn't letting go of Violet, her head currently locked in his massive arm.

"Mmmf mff rrf!" She beat her fists against him. The affect was similar to throwing pebbles against a brick wall. "Mmmf mff rrf!"

"Huh? What's that?" He leaned his head down, putting his ear closer to her. "You said you want more?"

"Mmmmff!" She punched him at a rapid pace, trying to get away from him. He simply stood there, holding a casual conversation with her mom. She could barely hear it, but she knew that they were both laughing at her.

_This isn't fair! _her mind screamed with frustration. _I'm puny enough, but now he has to use his stupid super strength!_

Well fine. If he wanted to use super powers… Well, then she was _obligated _to use hers.

Bob was in mid laugh when all of a sudden, something sparkling caught his vision. He looked down and his eyes widened when he realized he was holding what appeared to be something made of light in the crook of his arm. Momentarily, he was confused. Then, he realized that the light was his daughter. Too bad for him that realization came too late.

The shield around her expanded with a snap, effectively tearing his grip from her and throwing him backwards. He would have slammed into the wall were it not for his wife's quick reflexes. Her elastic arms wrapped around him, halting him in mid flight before springing back and flinging him to the floor.

Violet's shield flickered and faded, and she wavered on her feet, holding a hand to her head. "Urg…" She stumbled around, vision tilting. "That was… so weird…"

Helen stared at her daughter, shock plastered all over her face. "Vi…" She blinked a few times, perhaps thinking that what she just saw was all a figment of her imagination. But everything remained the same, and when she realized this, a smile began to grow on her face.

"Oh honey!" She reached forward, squeezing her daughter tightly. "You're powers! They're getting stronger!"

"Uh huh…" Her head was still spinning. She hadn't planned on that happening. She had just wanted to put a shield around them both and maybe just… stun them or something. But the feeling of being encased in her father's arms reflected on her powers, and she in turn encased herself. In a moment of fear, she had reflected that outwards. It had been like tearing a part of herself from her and throwing it, kind of like a boomerang.

"Damn, ow…" Her father was getting to his feet, rubbing his shoulder, his face wincing in pain. "I hadn't expected that. I tensed at the last second." He rolled his shoulder in it's socket, and he bit back a curse. "Probably shouldn't have done that."

"Sorry, dad," she said sheepishly, giving him a weak smile.

"No, no, it's alright." He pat her on the back, giving her a proud smile- even though she could tell he was still in pain. "I'm glad you're getting stronger."

Jak Jak's cries echoed down the hall. Helen shook her head with a sigh. "Oh dear, looks like we woke him up. Coming, honey!" She went to go get him, passing Dash on the way back.

"What's goin' on?" he asked. "I heard something."

"Oh, nothing much," said Bob. "Your sister just nearly threw me into a wall, that's all."

"_What?" _Dash gaped at her. "How'd you do that?!"

"I don't really know," she said slowly, putting a hand to her finally clearing head. "It just sort of… happened."

Dash pouted. "Lucky," he mumbled. "I wish I could do that."

"A few more years, and you probably will," assured Bob with a pat on his back. "Alright now, in all seriousness, we need to calm down. We woke up your brother. He's going to be a pain to get back to sleep." He walked away, mumbling to himself, and Violet saw his hand go up to his shoulder again. She suppressed a laugh, but she still smiled.

"Whew." She wiped a hand across her forehead. "I really needed that. It's been a while since I rough housed like that."

_In fact, it's been a while since you've done any super work at all, _noted a voice in her head.

"Vi," called her mom from down the hall, Jak Jak's sobs subsiding. "It's nearly five! You really need to start getting ready!"

Violet's shoulders slumped. She really hadn't been doing a good job at keeping track of the time lately.

"So," said her brother as he followed her into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them as if it was the most natural thing in the world, "what did Syndrome think when you told him about your date?"

"Buddy," she corrected, her tone irritated. "Geez, Dash, I'm getting tired of reminding you."

"And _I'm _getting tired of reminding _you _that I'm not going to call him by his real name." He changed topics easily; this argument was old and pointless and they both knew it. "Well? What did he think?"

She sighed as she sat down in front of her vanity, reaching inside one of the shopping bags from earlier that day and pulling out a brand new curling iron. "He was jealous," she said with a shake to her head, placing the new box of bobby pins next to her hair brushes. "I'm going to have to keep a close eye on Joshua tonight. I'm afraid that if I don't, I might end up dateless."

"I wouldn't put it past him," murmured Dash, and unlike Violet who had a hint of sarcasm in her words, he was utterly serious. It reminded her just who exactly Buddy could be, and she suddenly felt that her words were far more true than she realized.

"Well," said Violet awkwardly, glancing briefly at Dash through the mirror, "I don't think he'd do something like that in public. He has appearances he needs to keep up. I don't think murdering a teenage boy would help him much."

"True," shrugged Dash. "He wouldn't risk murdering him, not with… well." Dash looked up and caught her eyes. She stared forward and read his expression far too well.

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah. I know."

_He wouldn't dare do something like that with me there._

The thought was almost egotistical, but she couldn't help but believe that maybe… maybe she held at least some power over him, that it wasn't just her who could be swayed. It was something that any relationship would promise, and if there's was true, then…

"He wouldn't do it." She said it firmly and with confidence. "Never."

Dash sighed at her. "Alright," he said, although he still clearly sounded doubtful. "If you say so."

Violet frowned at him. She wasn't in the mood to deal with her brother's words. He could doubt him, fine, but she wouldn't surround herself with such negativity. She gestured towards her door.

"Out of here," she said brusquely. "I need to get ready."

"Yeah, yeah…" He hopped off of the bed and went to the door. Instead of leaving, he paused for a moment, and then slowly looked back at her. "Vi?"

She sighed, and then turned around in her seat. She couldn't stay mad at him when he sounded so concerned. "Yes?"

Dash bit his lip, his worry showing only briefly though that small gesture. Then, his eyes set in a firm look, his jaw locked. "Violet," he said, his voice carrying a sense of maturity and concern that only an adult could have, "please be careful. Buddy may have changed for you… But that doesn't mean he's changed for the world."

Violet bit down on her tongue from stopping the bitter remark that had suddenly jumped forth from her. Defending him was becoming automatic, but somehow she knew that this wasn't the proper time to rebuke her brother. He was too serious, too stern. She wouldn't dare trample on this moment.

"Alright," she said after a pause. "I will."

He sighed a small sigh of relief, his posture returning to one of an adolescent. "Sweet," he said, further revealing his true age. "Okay then, I'm gunna… go…" He scratched at his leg awkwardly. "Yeah…" Glancing up at her again, he cleared his throat and opened her door, exiting swiftly. She smiled at his departure and turned back towards her vanity. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, his words somehow still ringing in her mind.

_Buddy may have changed for you… But that doesn't mean he's changed for the world._

"No," she said suddenly, interrupting the rising feeling of anxiety that had slowly begun it's trek up her spine. "It's nonsense." She looked at her brush and picked it up with a snap, running it through her hair. "He's different… I know he is."

She brushed her hair for a long time, long past necessity until her hair shone and her arm went limp from exhaustion. And still she stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't chase it away. The feeling still lingered, remaining on the coattails of her senses.

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered to herself with bewilderment. "What's with all this doubt? These thoughts?" She put a hand to her forehead, checking for a fever that wasn't there. "I must be nervous or something. Too much excitement, maybe."

Something in the mirror caught her eye. She looked, and noticed that her nightstand seemed oddly bare. Confused, she turned around, staring at it.

There was her lamp. There was her alarm clock. It looked fine, and yet…

A slow ache began to build in her chest as her heart skipped a beat. Slowly, she rose from her seat and walked forward. She came to a stop, and then she bent down, looking behind her nightstand.

There it was, leaning against the plaster, the wooden frame peeking behind a bit of her blanket. She reached out and carefully grabbed hold of the object, pulling it forward. As it came into view, the ability and will to stay standing dissipated, and she sank to her knees, her arms coming closer to her chest, her head bending down as her eyes slid across the image hidden behind dusty glass.

Distantly, she heard the sounds of a carnival.

"_I can't do this," she groaned, staring up at the metal beast towering over her._

"_Oh come on," he scoffed, grinning down at her. "This isn't nearly as scary as the roller coaster you insisted on going on _three times in a row." _He raised an eyebrow at her, his look reminding her just how irritated he had been with her about that._

"_Eh heh…" She scratched at her cheek sheepishly. "I suppose so… But… But this is different!" She pointed up at the tower and at the circular arrangement of seats around it. "It's up, and then it's down, and the worst part is they don't tell you when they're going to drop you! At least with a roller coaster you can _see _when you're about to take a seventy foot plummet."_

_He rolled his eyes at her. "Violet, you never cease to amuse me."_

_She pouted at him, sticking her bottom lip out. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"_

_He looked sincere. "No, never."_

_She poked him hard._

"_Okay, maybe."_

_She poked him harder._

"_OW! I told you the truth, didn't I?"_

"_Yes!" she said with a snap. "But it was rude nonetheless!"_

_He rubbed his arm. "Man, I can't ever make you happy."_

_She smiled, and then reached out and wrapped her arms around his middle, coming in close and looking up into his handsome face, a slight blush on her cheeks. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," she said coyly._

_He chuckled slyly, his arms slowly making their way around her, pulling her even closer. "Oh really?" he said, a playful tone in his words. "Would you care to enlighten me?"_

"_Mmmm…" She put a finger to her chin in thought, and then she dropped it and smirked at him, eyes twinkling. "Guess."_

"_Well," he said slowly, "I can think of three good reasons, buuut…"_

_Her face fell. "But?"_

_He returned her mischievous smirk. "Before I tell you, _you…" _He pointed to the ride. "Have to go on that with me."_

_She stared up at him, hoping that his expression would change. It didn't, his impish grin unfaltering. She waited for a few more moments, and when she realized he wasn't going to budge, she whimpered and dropped her head against his chest._

"_Really?" she whined._

"_Really." _

_She sighed heavily. "Fine," she grumbled, raising her head and poking him. "But only if you're going with me!"_

_He laughed. "You actually think I'd make you do this on your own?"_

_She gave him a flat look. "That's a rhetorical question and you know it."_

_He snickered. "Yeah. It is."_

_The moment had come too soon, and soon she found herself being strapped in. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she swore she was going to throw up. She was almost positive she would have lost her lunch all over the incredibly grumpy looking operator were it not for his hand wrapped around hers._

"_It'll be alright," he soothed, his thumb rubbing over the top of her hand. "I promise."_

_She took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. "Okay," she breathed, "okay."_

"_Oh! There you two are!" Her mom appeared from the crowd, Jak Jak in her arms. "I thought I told you two to wait!"_

"_Sorry, Mrs. Parr! I wanted Violet to try this ride, and the line was short. We needed to get in before it grew again!"_

"_Well, alright. Just let me get- don't start that ride yet!- a picture!" She fumbled expertly with her things, retrieving her camera. She put it to her eye and said, "Say cheese!"_

_Violet rolled her eyes, but the silly moment momentarily made her forget her current position. Leaning in close, hands intertwined, they grinned._

"_Cheese!"_

'_Click.'_

_It was the sound of the camera and the ride at the same time as she felt herself lurching forward and slowly climbing. Immediately her fear returned and she swore she fainted momentarily._

"_Vi? Vi, breathe!"_

"_Can't," she explained in a daze, "I'm dead."_

_He laughed. "You're not dead, now breathe!"_

_She did as she was told, and with oxygen in her lungs, she managed to look out at the growing view before her. And as they rose, the feelings of fear became translucent, feelings of warmth and happiness replacing it when they began to slow, pausing at the top, bathing Violet in the warmth of the summer sun's rays as it slowly began to set over the city._

_The sky was orange and red, like a fire, and it burned her soul with the amount of passion it had. The silhouettes of the towers in the distance were dark, but handsome and mysterious, pillars of wonderment and strength that stretched across the horizon._

"_Oh…" Her eyes softened, a sigh of wonderment falling from her. "This is… so…"_

"_I told you you'd like it," he said with a murmur._

_She looked over at him, a task in itself with the shoulder restraints. But she managed to catch his eyes. They twinkled with warmth and laughter, his soft brown hair auburn in the dying light. He was handsome and beautiful, and in that moment, she loved him more than she had ever loved him before._

_He squeezed her hand. "You ready?"_

_She smiled. "Always, Tony."_

_Then, they both leaned back, sharing one last glimpse at the setting sun, and then they closed their eyes just as the locks released and they fell, holding onto one another's hand tightly as they screamed with sheer delight, sinking back into the shadows of the tower below._

A single tear hit the glass of the picture, clearing away a trail of dust as it fell, disappearing into a corner of the frame. It was shaking, held in trembling hands, small sobs coming from her quivering form.

"Oh," she whispered with a wet, broken cry, "Tony… Oh Tony… I…" Slowly, the picture frame went to her chest, and she curled around it, a terrible sob hiccupping from her. "I'm so sorry…!"

She had forgotten. She had forgotten his warm smile, his joyful laughter, his sparkling eyes, his warm embrace. His vision, with all it's purity and strength, had been swallowed whole. The single most important memory she had had been consumed- and it was _her fault._

"I didn't mean for it to happen!" she cried, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face, her hair sticking to her skin. "I didn't want to forget you, I swear. I love you, Tony, I do, I do, I do…!"

But even though she said it, she knew… She knew with all her heart that he was no longer the one who occupied the most special part of her soul. That belonged to another now, even though she had promised that she would never- _never _let that happen.

She had failed him. She had made a promise of her soul, and she had broken it. She had turned her back on the thing that was most important, and now she was drifting down a dark path that strayed from the one he had once promised her. She was dooming herself, damning herself, trapped inside evil's vice-like grip. She was seduced by it's warmth, numb to it's dangers. She was a _fool, _and now, she couldn't return to the boy who had been her light, her _life._

"I tried," she whispered, her chest burning with shame. "I tried to keep the memory of you safe, but I… I was weak. I…"

She pulled away the frame, looking down into his smiling face. He looked so happy, so carefree, and the girl beside him… She, too, looked happy. _So happy. _But that had been so long ago, and no matter what, she couldn't turn back. Even if she could somehow discover how to travel backwards in time and stop that truck, she _still _wouldn't be able to change anything. Her soul was lost, her heart stolen, and _nothing _would bring it back.

"I couldn't take it anymore," she sobbed, tears sliding down her jaw, her eyes stinging. "You were gone, and he was there, and I… I…"

So vulnerable… so weak… and he had been there, offering her a hand. And she had taken it, and he had pulled her upwards, and that had been that. Her fate had been sealed. In that moment, she had been completed, the empty space within her filled.

He had been _replaced._

She squeezed her eyes shut. "_I couldn't bear to be alone any longer!"_

She wanted to hear him scream at her. She wanted to feel his wrath, the stinging slap of his hand against her face, forcing her to remember who she was, to knock sense into her! She wanted to escape this, to be free of all of this! Take her out of this horrible reality, make her remember who she was and who she belonged to! Remove her from the talons she was surrounded by; take away the blinding blue that encased her soul!

_Get me back… I want to go back!_

But… that couldn't happen. Because he was dead. He couldn't remind her of her happiness. He couldn't show her why he loved her, and why she loved him. Because he was dead.

Dead.

And the only thing that he could do was smile.

He _smiled._

The picture frame grew hot in her hands and she flung it from her. It crashed against the wall, and she heard the distinct sound of glass breaking. Her arms wrapped around her, a broken cry choking her.

"No," she groaned. 'No… You can't… You can't do this to me…!" She fisted her hands in her hair, burying her face into her knees. "_You can't do this to me!"_

Her moment of escape… gone. The one chance she had to wake up from this horrible nightmare… gone. He was the only thing that could have possibly saved her, and now…

It sat broken against the wall, destroyed by her.

The memory she had preserved was shattered _by her._

She was…

_Free…_

Her head slowly came up, her red and puffy eyes widening fractionally as realization slowly began to make it's way through her veins like sweet, sweet blood. Her arms and legs unfolded and she leaned forward, crawling towards the picture frame lying face down.

_I'm… free…_

Her hand came out, slowly turning it around. Glass tinkled as it fell, hitting the pieces below. She looked down at the picture. He still smiled. But…

_He holds… no power over me…_

He had… consumed her life. When he had died, that was all she had been able to think about. She had blamed herself, blamed her family, blamed the world, and she had even blamed God. He was all that she could think about, and it got to the point where the only way she could momentarily forget was by hurting herself, punishing herself.

And she had tried to do it again. She had wished- _prayed- _that he would hurt her, shame her for what she had done. She had wanted to return to that self abuse to make her feel better, to make her feel _alive._

But she didn't deserve it.

She had committed no crime, had done no wrong.

So she denied him.

Her eyes traced a crack in the glass, up towards his ever sparkling eyes.

She denied his control over her… And she had set herself free.

A small smile crept into her face. Then, a chuckle. Soon, she was laughing, happy, joyous laughter. She leaned against the wall, laughing and laughing until tears streamed down her face.

"Oh my God," she chuckled, staring up with bleary eyes at the ceiling above her, "after all this time… it was _you!" _She looked down at the picture, and then, with a smile, turned it face down.

"I love you, Tony," she said, a gentle smile on her face, "and I always will. But I'm afraid… I'm afraid that it's time we both… moved on."

_It's time to let yourself heal._

The words of her mother echoed through her head, and she shook her head wearily, smirking. She had been right all along.

She knew, as she stood up and began to wipe away her tears, that this process of healing would take a while. She knew that the remains of her love for him still lingered, and she knew that no matter what, he would always influence her in some way.

But she would no longer hurt herself for him. She did not deserve pain, physical or otherwise, because she loved another.

And she knew that that was what he would have wanted.

_You know, Tony wouldn't like to see you like this._

"No, he wouldn't," said Violet, replying to the conversation that she had with her mother all those weeks ago. "And I won't let him, not anymore."

She straightened her back, pushed back her hair, and looked forward, a determined smirk on her face.

She had a prom to get ready for.

* * *

'_Ding dong.'_

"Vi!" he mother called. "Your date's here!"

Violet put down her lip gloss, her curls bouncing against her face as she turned her head. "Coming!" she called out, double checking her appearance in her mirror before she got up and grabbed her purse. She strode quickly out of her room, her heels preventing her from moving too fast. Down the hall, she saw her father looking down at someone with a fierce glare. It had to be Joshua.

Violet smiled impishly. "You're doing that to the wrong guy," she murmured to herself before wiping away her giggles and walking out of the hall.

"Oh, look who's here!" Her mom aimed and fired the first of many camera shots. "And she's looking so pretty!"

Joshua's head poked out from around the corner, and his eyes widened.

"Woah," he murmured, mouth going slack.

"Don't forget what I said," said her father without looking down at him, "and you might live past this night."

Joshua gulped and snapped his gaping jaw shut. Helen slapped her husband in the arm and said soothingly, "Don't worry. He's just playing."

"No, I'm not," said Bob in a very serious tone.

Violet laughed nervously. Poor Joshua. With his luck, he'd be dead within the evening. She really needed to surround herself with more men that weren't so… lethal.

"Dad, stop that," said Violet, coming up to him and pressing his arm slightly. She smirked to herself, and pressed harder, near his shoulder.

"Ah- eh hem!" He recovered with a cough and quickly moved away from her, patting her on her arm. "Of course, Vi!"

She smiled happily at him, and then turned her attention to Joshua. Mild shock went through her when she saw just how handsome he looked. Dressed in a sharp black suit, hair slicked back, and a deep purple rose just above his breast pocket, he had been transformed into someone that could pass off as handsome.

But mostly…

"You actually paid attention when I told you my dress color," she said amazed as she pointed to his chest where the flower sat.

"Well, yeah," he said, his face turning a pink color, "I mean, that's what you're _supposed _to do…" Slowly, he reached out from behind him, and pulled forth a small, clear box. Inside sat a beautiful, matching corsage.

"Oh!" She reached out delicately, slightly brushing her fingers against the unexpected present, confirming that it was actually real. She noticed a flash of light behind her; her mother was consistent. She shook her head slightly and then smiled happily. "Thank you, Joshua."

"Go on, now," urged her mother, standing between them, camera ready, "put it on her!"

"Um… Okay." He fumbled with the package and managed to get the flower out with minimal harm done. He slipped it over her wrist and was momentarily blinded when a particularly close flash of light exploded in his vision. He blinked, swaying slightly, still holding onto Violet's hand.

"Mom," whined Violet, "stop, you're going to give him a seizure with all of that!"

"I don't think so, missy! You know the deal: I get you your prom things, and you have to subject yourself to unlimited pictures. And I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain! Now, get together you two!"

They were physically pushed together, arms linked. Her father, safe from her wrath momentarily, shot in a few comments every now and again about keeping his hands off of certain things that belonged to her. She apologized over and over to him, and he made an effort to return each apology with good nature, but she could tell that he was getting tired of her parents. But they powered on through the pictures, even though the poses were getting to be ridiculous.

She heard a snicker next to her and she looked over. Dash was leaning against the hall, smirking at her. His eyes sparkled with amusement. She shot him a warning look, and he put up his hands in a protective matter, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. He gestured to the door with a shooing matter.

"_Get outta here," _he mouthed, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but she returned the smile, nodding. She turned back to her mother, slowly pulling Joshua backwards. He immediately got the hint and followed her without hesitation. They crept towards the door, her hand slowly reaching behind her for the doorknob.

"Alright, mom," said Violet, smiling as big as she could, "it's time to go. We're going to be late, you know!"

"But… But I still have a whole other roll of film to go through!" she exclaimed with a frown, pulling out said _entire roll of film._

Violet paled. With lightning swift speed, she grabbed the doorknob, pulled, and flung open the door, the two teens stumbling out. Her mother's eyes widened and she raised her camera like a tranquilizer gun, finger on the trigger.

"Violet," she said warningly, "don't you do it!"

She laughed awkwardly. "It's been a blast," she said, squeezing Joshua's arm, a signal to get ready, "but I think we've documented enough memories, so…"

She tugged, and they bolted, running down the driveway. She saw his car parked next to the curb and she hoped that he had left her door unlocked. Behind her she heard her mother's indignant cry and then flashes of light as she chased after them, firing picture after picture, hoping to corner them and pin them with one good one where their faces were twisted and in mid blink, a picture she could show to everyone who came over. Her mother was going to _punish _her.

Thankfully Joshua did keep the car unlocked. She swung the car door wide open and practically leaped into the car, slamming the door behind her. Joshua got in next to her and fumbled with his keys.

"Hurry!" said Violet, seeing her mother's quick approach. "Hurry!"

He found the key with a cry of triumph.

Her mother was close, raising her camera.

Violet grabbed Joshua's arm. "Drive!"

The car roared to life and he hit the pedal for all he was worth. They sped off with a screech, the too late flash of the camera going off behind them. Violet rolled down her window and waved to her mother, laughing. Her mom may have looked angry, but they both knew that this game was the best sort of game. And sure enough, her mother waved back, her pleased smile getting smaller and smaller as they drove away. She put her head back into the car, rolling up her window, smiling to herself.

_What else would a super play? _she thought with a giggle.

"Your family is insane," stated Joshua, looking over at Violet with serious eyes. "I mean it. _Insane."_

She smiled. "I know. That's why I love them so much."

He snorted. "Whatever floats your boat, Violet."

Violet shook her head, holding back bubbling laughter. Even if by some miracle, the universes tangled together and a new time stream was born and in that time stream she and Joshua were together, they'd never last. She and her family were just too much for him.

She pat him affectionately on the arm, like a mother would their child. "It's alright; you won't see much of them anyways."

He sighed with relief. "Good."

They drove in relative silence. Violet watched the houses and buildings go by, staring up at the twinkling stars above. She noticed his car look neat. The carpet appeared to have been recently vacuumed, and the dashboard was free of dust. It even smelled like spring.

"Did you just clean this car?" she asked curiously.

His mouth twisted. "Against my will," he grumbled. "The moment mom found out I had a date, she… Well, she's basically the reason why this night is going so well so far."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. She's the one that made the corsages, the one who got me fitted for this tux, and the one who forced me to clean out my car." He sighed. "Moms. You can't change them."

Violet was trying to picture what his mom would look like in her head, but every time she tried, only a burbled mess of a chimera appeared. She was getting conflicting pieces of information. Joshua was a terror at school, and had the manners of a boar, and yet here he was, explaining to her how he had been forced to waltz with his mom for an hour the other day. She had figured that his mom didn't care how her son turned out and let him be the horror he was. But clearly, with the way he had cleaned up that night, that wasn't the case.

"Why are you so terrible at school?" asked Violet, amazed at him.

"What?"

"Look at you!" She gestured to him. "If you really tried, you could be something that all the girls would go after. But instead you'd rather make ketchup rockets and use innocent girls as white boards."

He blushed, and she knew it was out of shame. "Well," he said hesitantly, "I guess it's because… school's the only place where I _can _screw around. When I'm at home, I'm… not so screwy," he ended awkwardly.

"Meaning?"

"I'm sitting in front of a desk studying until my eyeballs bleed," he said dryly.

Violet leaned back in her seat, looking at Joshua with a whole new veil over her eyes. He had a whole new persona behind that troublesome class clown exterior. He was studious, he was polite, he was neat, and apparently he wasn't as stupid as he let everyone believe. He was living a double life, and Violet found a feeling akin to kinship between them grow.

_Oh Joshua, _she thought to herself, _we are so much alike, more than you'll ever know._

He cleared his throat. "You won't… tell anyone?" he asked, an edge of hope on his words.

She smiled at him. "No," she said, "I won't."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Good, because I'd hate to have to be an ass to you in order to get my reputation back."

"Yes," she mumbled flatly, "we wouldn't want that."

The rest of the ride was filled with comfortable conversation. It wasn't awkward between them, and it was actually pleasant. They laughed and they joked and they had a good time. Before she knew it, they had reached the performing arts center. There was a valet at the entrance, waiting for them to pull in. A _valet. _Already she knew this evening was going to be something she wouldn't ever be able to forget.

"I… don't have any money," he said to the valet.

"Oh, no money required! It's completely complimentary!"

Joshua stared, struck dumb, but Violet was already getting out, her whole body itching to get inside. "Get out of the car, Joshua! He needs to park our car!"

Her words snapped him out of his reverie. "_Our _car?" he mumbled to himself as he got out, the valet quickly taking his place. "Don't you mean _my _car?" He came up beside her and offered out his arm. She took it happily and they both headed towards the doors, couples from the school headed in the same direction in an array of color and finery.

Of course they weren't going to be in the theatre, but Buddy had made sure to rent the entire center, just in case. But the main party was at the entrance, and _that _was more than enough.

The room was large and spacious, the ceiling hovering high above them, large, glass chandeliers tinkling slightly. The cool, blue light of the room reflected off their expensive crystals, reflecting it across the room in small little rainbows. Silk sashes of blues and purples hung across towering windows that reached all the way to the ceiling. A large, wide staircase swept upwards from the middle of the room, leading to the second floor where all of the tables were set, more silk hanging from its banisters. A string quartet was playing to the left of the staircase, music floating from them and into the air, rich and alive.

But, the thing that made it the most magical, and something that made her smile, were the stairs that floated around them, enveloping them in shining, soft, violet light. A familiar star, one that she knew very well, came floating towards her. She touched it lightly, and it blinked before floating away towards a crescent moon that rested above their heads amongst soft clouds that drifted around the chandeliers.

_You've outdone yourself, Buddy, _her thoughts whispered, her eyes softening. _You truly have._

They had stood there for a long moment, simply staring at their surroundings, and they weren't the only ones. Couples around them awed with wonderment, whispering and looking around them with sheer amazement in their eyes.

"Let's get out of the way of the doors," Joshua said, leading her off to the side as more couples filed in, gasping just as they did. The dance floor was already filled with couples, but they were mostly teachers and people she knew who had fine tastes. The music was beautiful, but not very many people knew how to dance to it. Looking over at Joshua, she knew that even though he had to ability to do so, it didn't mean he wanted to show off his waltzing skills.

"Don't worry," she assured him, "we won't dance to this."

He gave her a relieved smile. "Thank God."

They went up the staircase and immediately Violet felt a bit claustrophobic. Mostly everyone was up here, talking and chatting, some of them eventually finding somewhere to sit. She swayed a little, the air around her closing in. Joshua felt her uneasiness and managed to break through the mass of teenagers and find them a table that was a distance away from the main crowd.

"Here." He pulled out a chair for her to sit in. "Relax. I'll go get us something to drink."

She sat down in it gratefully. "Thank you," she sighed with utter relief, placing her purse on the table. "And a drink would be lovely."

Joshua disappeared into the mass of color and bodies, leaving Violet to catch her breath. It had been so long since she had been around so many people. Jumping back into it so suddenly had been almost too much for her. But eventually, she became used to the crowd, and soon enough, she was relaxed and enjoying the conversations she was having with people who joined them at their table, just as relieved as she had been to finally get a seat.

"I'm telling you," said the girl sitting beside her, her red curls bouncing, "I've _never _seen a dance so packed! Even last year's prom wasn't this bad."

"You were at last year's prom?" asked Violet.

"Yeah. I'm a senior, you see. And while I'm so happy that Mr. Pine was able to put on a prom that is fitting for me to leave with, I'm absolutely stunned at how many people came! In fact, I'm almost positive there's more than just juniors and seniors here."

Violet nodded, knowing full well that was the truth. She had seen more than a couple sophomore's faces, and she swore she even saw a freshman's. But there was plenty of space to share, and she didn't think it totally fair that the underclassmen couldn't attend a once in a lifetime event, so she didn't blow the whistle on them.

"Here you go, Alice." Alice's date came from behind her holding two glasses of punch. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, handing her her drink as he did so.

"Thank you, George," she said with a delighted blush, watching him take a seat next to her. "What happened to your date…? Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Violet," she said, "and as for my date, I don't know- oh, there he is."

Joshua struggled to get out of the crowd, protecting the drinks in his hands as if his life depended on it. Eventually he made it through, and with a flourish, presented her punch as if it were a victorious trophy.

"For you, my lady!" he declared, sweeping down and handing her her glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the neck of it. "Thank you Joshua," she said, "now sit down."

He did as he was told, and then the two couples began to chat, swapping stories and sharing comments about how much they loved this year's theme. Violet nodded and agreed with them, but hid her delighted smile behind her glass. She wouldn't brag about how the theme had come to be.

_No, _she thought to herself, looking down at her reflection in her glass, her large, violet eyes staring back at her, the color of her irises woven through every bit of fabric decorating the building, _bragging is rude. We won't do that._

Violet heard an excited squeal. She looked up, her eyes catching the sight of bubble gum pink fabric, and then she found herself being pulled out of her chair, the air being squeezed out of her lungs.

"Kari," she wheezed, "you're killing me…"

"Oh Vi!" she exclaimed, Violet's raspy plea falling on deaf ears, "You look so _beautiful!_ You really should wear more makeup more often, you know? You'd be _so _popular and steal all of the boys' hearts!" She paused. "On second thought, continue doing what you've been doing."

Violet feebly hit Kari in the back. "Let… go… please…"

"What? Oh, sorry!" She let Violet go and she stumbled backwards, vision swaying. Then, Kari's arm was linked with hers and she was being drug away from her table, the people sitting at it staring after her with stunned expressions. Roger Lambert stood there too, completely forgotten.

"So you went to the prom with Joshua Bartelli? I thought you said that you wanted to go with someone else?" Kari barreled on before Violet even had a change to react. "Oh _I _get it. You wanted to go anyways. Well of _course _you wanted to do that! Who would want to miss this? I mean, come _on, _Vi, _look at this place!_" Kari's hand swept out, gesturing to the fabulously decorated room. "Mr. Pine really outdid himself, don't you think?"

"Mhmm," managed Violet, still trying to recover.

"Music needs to change, though," commented Kari with a small frown. "Classical's pretty and it makes people smarter, but I want some _real _tunes, you know?"

"Yes, Kari," said Violet, giving her friend a weak smile, "I know."

They wandered around for a while- well, Kari's wandered. Violet was just along for the ride. They surveyed the tables, oohing and awing at the different arrays of drinks and finger foods that were available. At the center of the dining area, a large ice sculpture stood. It was of a woman dressed in elegant robes, her long hair sweeping down her back. On her delicate finger rested a single butterfly.

"Wow," breathed Kari, matching Violet's amazed expression, "that's really _good. _I wish I could do that!"

Violet stared at the face of the woman for a long time. It was mature, and beautiful, and it caught her attention more than it should have. It seemed so familiar to her, as if she had seen this woman once before in her life, but she just couldn't remember who…

"Oooh, they have brownies!" exclaimed Kari with sheer delight, nearly yanking Violet's arm out of it's socket as they went to the dessert table, a large mass of females crowding around it as they sampled each of the desserts. Violet's nose was filled with the smell of chocolate, and her mouth immediately began to water; it was all Hershey's.

She indulged herself in small cubes of fudge, little wraps filled with light, sweet cream, squares of cakes filled with custard, and small, little candies that melted on the tongue. Finally, she made her way to an extravagant cake. It was half as big as the ice sculpture, and decorated with roses and stars and moons and ribbons all made of icing. _This _was familiar to her, and unlike the statue, she knew who made this.

She felt a smile behind her, and she couldn't help but grin in return.

"Geoffry," she said with a smirk, "you little braggart."

She turned around, and his arms were open for her to leap into and hug. He smelled of food, and she knew, without a doubt, all of this had been prepared by him.

"Miss Violet," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it. His English accent was thick and filled with delight, "you look _extraordinary _tonight."

"Thank you, Geoffry," she blushed modestly. "And you look like you're dressed for a culinary war!"

"But I am dressed for war! And although I may not have very many troops, I have quite a few tricks up my sleeve." He winked at her and she wondered just how many people he had caused to slip into shock after eating a massive amount of his desserts.

"Heart attacks are bad for an evening out," she told him seriously, shaking her finger at him.

"Tell that to Emily," he murmured with a grin. "She's already eaten twelve of my blueberry tarts."

Violet's eyes widened with surprise, and a small feeling of happiness flickered through her. "Miss Patterson's here?"

"Of course," said Geoffry, slipping beside her and behind the table, reaching for a stack of trays against the far wall. "She's the organizer of this event."

"But what about-"

"Mr. Pine may have put forth the money," explained Geoffry as he slid out a sheet of crème puffs and brought it to the table, "but there's no way he'd be able to do this on his own, especially with all these children," he added with a murmur, as to not offend anyone who might be listening in.

Violet could definitely believe that, and recalling multiple conversations she had with him, she knew for certain that only Emily was capable of pulling all of this together.

"Is Bu… Er, Mr. Pine here?"

Geoffry caught her slight slip up, and he smirked at her, causing her to blush. "Is my company not enough for Miss Violet?" he asked slyly.

She felt herself grow dizzy from all the blood that was rushing to her head. "Geoffry, stop that, you know that's not what I mean."

He laughed. "I know, and I'm sorry. No one's been in the mood to joke with me lately, and you're always so fun to tease."

"Geoffry…"

"Alright, alright!" He laughed again as he gently placed individual crème puffs onto small dishes. "To answer your question… No. He is not here."

Her face fell.

"Not yet."

A flood of happiness filled her, a smile of relief gracing her features. But then, she became confused. "What do you mean, 'not yet?'"

"Mr. Pine had some business to attend to," said Geoffry, focused on his task at hand. "As to what that business entails, I do not know."

Violet frowned. What could Buddy be doing at a time like this? Surely he knew that she wanted to see him that evening. What could possibly draw him away?

"Vi," said Kari suddenly, abruptly pulling her away from the dessert table, a fierce glare on her face, "we need to get out of here before I start bursting out of my dress."

"Wh-what? Uh, I guess this is goodbye, Geoffry!" She waved. "Bye! Oh, and thank you!"

He bowed. "Farewell, Miss Violet." He smiled up at her, his gaze sparkling with amusement before returning to his pastries, the sight of him disappearing once they went back into the crowd.

"What an evil, evil man," grumbled Kari as she shoved past everyone. "How dare he make such delicious treats and put them out there for everyone to eat, especially me!"

Violet smiled sympathetically at her friend. The will to stop eating was lost the moment one tasted Geoffry's food; it was just that good. And while she had gotten a little used to his dishes and style of cooking, these poor people were having their first tastes. They'd gain at least five pounds before the end of the night.

The crowd suddenly began to shift, nearly sending Violet tumbling down to the ground. She looked around, trying to find the source of the change, and then realized that the sounds of strings had disappeared. She struggled to get to the edge of the floor, reaching the banister. She peered down to the floor below and watched as everyone began to flood the staircase, heading down and waiting with anticipation as the DJ's equipment was beginning to be set up.

"Hey, look at that! They're switching the music!" Kari glanced around quickly. "Where's Roger? I need to dance to the first good song of the night with Roger!" She started to follow the crowd again, but then suddenly remembered Violet and managed to push her way back towards her, panting with effort. "I'll see you down there," she managed before she was swallowed back into the crowd, leaving Violet standing outside the dangerous current. She waved to her friend, shaking her head slightly. Kari was hopeless.

Violet leaned over the banister, playing with the silk wrapped around it as she watched the couples get together and begin to dance to the new popish tune that filtered through the room. It was easy to find Kari; she was roughly tugging poor Roger across the floor to the center, the prime area. It reminded her that she also had a date, and she looked around, trying to find him.

"Joshua?" She began to walk back towards the tables, searching for him. Their table was empty, their cups drained dry. Her eyes narrowed with slight confusion as they swept across the top floor. Besides some of the serving staff, the whole area was void of people, including Joshua.

"Excuse me," she asked a rather large bus boy, his hair a sharp buzz cut, "have you seen a guy with longish black hair? He's wearing a black tux with a purple rose on the front, here." She pointed to her own chest and showed him her corsage. "It looks like this."

The man looked like he could snap a human in half with his teeth, and when he was tossing wine glasses into a tray in his arm, the disgruntled expression on his face said that he was prepared to do just that. Thankfully, when she asked him her question, the look of death disappeared and he replied to her politely and without any sign that he was going to throw her over the side of the railing.

Talk about not judging a book by its cover.

"Ah, I remember him. Last time I saw him he was hanging around near the front doors." Another bus boy passed behind him, equally big, and Buzz Cut handed him his full tray. He murmured something to him, and then sent him on his way. "But that was about half an hour ago. I don't know where he is now."

"Oh." She pouted a little. "Well, thank you anyway."

He nodded to her, and then went back towards the food tables where a few other equally massive men were talking to each other, one of them laughing. At least they were having a little fun, even after the mess her fellow teenagers had made.

But she… She wasn't happy.

"He went dancing without me?" she mumbled irritably to herself. She went back to the banister, leaning over, scanning the enormous, living mass jumping and dancing beneath her. The colors were across the spectrum, and each face was recognizable. But no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find him. She found the rest of their little group dancing together with Kari and Roger, but not him.

"Is he in the bathroom?" She hoped not, or else that guy had a very weak bladder.

But if that wasn't the case, then where in the world was he?

"Looking for me?"

The voice hit her, and immediately her knees went weak. And while she was slowly falling apart, the shivers running through her shaking her to pieces, a little voice in her mind told her that this wasn't the boy she was looking for. She still needed to find him, still needed to make sure he was okay, had to see that nothing was wrong with him, couldn't let him out of her sights because_… _because-!

His hand touched her shoulder, soft lips just barely touching her ear, and her eyes slid closed.

No, this wasn't the boy she was looking for.

But he would definitely do.


	22. Prom Night Part Two

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Prom Night (Part Two)**

"_I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life."_

"_My Bloody Valentine," by Good Charlotte_

* * *

The smell of pork chops was getting to be too much to bear.

"Please?" he begged, his mouth salivating as he eyed the steaming pan of freshly baked meat. "Just one little bite?"

Helen slapped his approaching hand. "Stop that. You're worse than a dog! You can wait just like everyone else. Now go sit down so I can get everything else prepared."

Bob sighed dejectedly and, with one last longing look, he reluctantly fled the kitchen, finding his wife's wrath too big a price for a simple taste.

"No luck?" piped his oldest son from the living room, a smug smirk on his face. "I told you she wouldn't."

Bob grumbled, plopping down into his chair, sinking into the cushion, moping. "Yeah, yeah…"

The sound of beeping rang through the house. Immediately, everyone's eyes snapped towards Bob's study.

He stood up quickly, moving much more swiftly than any man his size. He burst through the door, answering the hotline with stern eyes.

"Mr. Incredible here."

"We've just received disturbing news from an old friend of ours," said Rick Dicker's voice on the other end. His tone sounded urgent and strained. "It seems Bomb Voyage is up and running again. But it seems this old guy has some new tricks." He cursed quietly to himself. "Damn him. I never thought he'd sink so low. And of all the nights…!"

The Dash, Jak Jak, and Elastigirl were standing in the doorway, their superhero suits crimson in the dark light of the hallway, their black masks glinting slightly. They were reading his expression, and it brought a cold chill to the room.

"Rick… What are you not telling me?"

A frustrated sigh came from him. "He's… he's at the performing art's center." He cursed again. "Dammit Bob, he says he's going to blow it up."

"The performing arts…"

The phone dropped from his hand. Elastigirl stumbled and fell against the doorframe, Dash's eyes widening with horror. Even Jak Jak's face fell, his young mind able to comprehend the sense of sickening realization that was filtering through everyone's systems.

"_No,_" whispered Helen with horror.

Bob pushed past them all, going into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, he was back, and dressed for battle. His eyes were filled with hatred, but nothing could hide the fear that burned inside his heart.

"Everyone in the Incredibile. _Now."_

They were speeding down the road within seconds.

* * *

He took in deep breath, inhaling the crisp, cold air of the night. He let it out slowly, and felt a smile creep up into his face. It had been a long time since he had felt so excited, so _happy. _Sure, there were a few things that he wished were different about that night, but everything that had made him angry and insane and had tore apart his livelihood and his reputation and everything that had defined him and made him who he was- they were going to be _destroyed. _

His revenge would be sound.

Three black vans pulled into the empty parking lot behind the performing arts center. Syndrome, dressed for the evening, slowly pushed himself off of the wall, walking towards the approaching vehicles. His newly recruited henchmen emerged from them, wearing the clothes of cooks and waiters and doormen. They left their equipment in the vans, quickly coming to stand in front of Syndrome, two dozen faces set with quiet severity.

Syndrome scanned them with a careful, calculating eye. He had been careful to pick out this new set of men. He didn't want any weak links like his last crew. He examined them quietly, searching for anything that would betray vulnerability, but they were unmoving, undaunted, and firm in their confidence.

He smirked. They were perfect.

"Alright," he began, pressing his fingertips together, tapping them lightly against his chin, "I don't think I need to remind you just how important this night is, do I?" He looked over them, and then laughed. "Of course I don't. You men aren't idiots." He began to pace.

"You have already been briefed on the mission, via Emily. However, in case you've forgotten, there's a few things you must remember. One." He held up a finger. "Nobody moves from their positions until the signal. Two." Another finger. "We don't need any unnecessary bloodshed, but if anyone tries to get in the way… well. You know what to do. And finally, three…" He lifted one last finger slowly and stared at it for a moment. He didn't move, his eyes unblinking, and then they narrowed in dangerous ferocity, his voice dark. "Do not, and I repeat _do not _bring harm to _any _of the Incredibles, including Robert. If anyone is to harm them, I will personally make sure they regretted ever even having the thought." He clenched his hand, and then spun around, clapping his hands together, looking at them with a cheery expression. "Well! I think that's it. Geoffry's inside waiting for you. I hope you like cleaning plates as much as you like firing guns!"

He stepped to the side and opened the door for them as a gentleman would for a lady. They moved swiftly, unloading the equipment and the cargo and bringing it inside without a word. A familiar smell of lady's perfume hit his nose and he peered around the door.

"Ah, Miss Patterson. So nice of you to come and meet us."

She was wearing a long, crimson dress with an attractive slit running up the side, giving teasing looks of her thigh. Her blonde hair was curled and tickling her exposed, bare back. And still, even with her sexy attire, she still held the aura of a businesswoman.

"I have just received word from Bomb Voyage," she said, stepping out of the way of an incoming table. "He has just contacted the NSA."

Syndrome smirked to himself. "That means we have a little over half an hour until they get here. And _that _means the illustrious Metroville Police Department will receive the news here within the next few minutes." He scratched at his chin. "And what about Second and Evergreen teams? Are they set up there?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. "They're prepared to act the moment the police department is mobilized."

"Good. Keep an eye on their movements, and make sure they know exactly when they're notified of the incident."

"Yes, sir."

Miss Patterson followed after the men, calling out orders and directing them to their stations. Syndrome followed, his hands in his pockets, a bounce to his step. How long had it been since he had been actively planning someone's demise? All the commands and cues and orders and the high energy in the air as they waited for the stars of the show was like sweet music to his ears.

He heard a distant crash, and he saw his henchmen pulling the school-hired attendants that evening towards the parking lot. Their mouths were gagged and their arms restrained, their uniforms identical to the ones his men were wearing, even though theirs were now wrinkled and messed up, some splattered with a little blood. They tossed them into the vans in the back and locked them inside.

"Good job, good job, now get cleaning. They should be switching the music soon." He double checked the vans, making sure everyone inside were going to stay inside, and then waved a few men over who were waiting outside beside the door.

"You know where to park them. Get going now, we're running low on time."

They drove the vans out of the small parking lot and down the alley, leaving the area empty and free of anything that would seem even a bit suspicious. Looking around one last time, Syndrome smirked to himself and went back inside, pulling a small communicator out of his pocket. He put it into his ear and turned it on, the sound of radio static buzzing. After double checking the channel, he walked through the backstage halls that connected through the entire building, occasionally peering over at the different work his men were doing.

The breaker box was wide open, wires being cut and switched and connected to different breakers. The strong smell of chemicals permeated the air as small packages wrapped in brown paper were being carefully stored in thick, titanium cases. Emily was standing in front of a computer, a matching communicator in her ear as she listened into the police's hacked frequency. Next to her was a case, a case she guarded with the utmost attention. Amongst it all were the out of place men who were throwing away used glasses and tossing plates and collecting dishes.

"Very good, everyone, very good. And don't forget to smile and be polite! Remember, we are _happy workers who love teenagers!"_

A voice crackled in his ear. "Sir," said Second Street's leader, "the police have just been notified. They're on their way right now."

Syndrome smirked. "Ah, they are, are they? Emily!" She turned her head. "How many men are they sending?"

"A dozen cars, sir. Six down Second, six down Evergreen."

He chuckled to himself. "Of course they are. They'd never want to make it hard for us." He switched channels quickly. "Are the vans parked?"

"Yes, sir. They're blocking the back street right now."

He switched back to Second's channel. "Contact Evergreen. We want this to be in synch. Emily! Time!"

"A minute, sir!"

"You heard her. Don't screw up."

"No, sir. I won't, sir."

Syndrome switched channels again, leaving it open for Bomb Voyage to contact him when he was ready. He rubbed his hands together, looking around rather happily before decided to take a look at the main hall and see if everything was where it should be.

He heard a muffled cry and he turned around. One of his biggest men, a guy that came directly from prison, was holding a kicking and screaming teenager in his giant arms. Red punch was poured all over the top of his henchman's head, leaving sticky, pink trails down the guy's skin. He was glaring intensely, and it was a miracle that the boy was still alive.

"Caught the kid sneaking around in the back," said the man gruffly, coming to a stop in front of Syndrome. "Tried to get away, broke a glass on my head. Whadya want me to do with him?"

Syndrome laughed a little. "He broke a glass on your head? Well, aren't you the little-"

His words were cut off. The kid's eyes were staring up at him with a pungent combination of horror and shock. Even his movements had ceased completely. Syndrome's eyes narrowed as he looked the boy up and down. Black tux, purple corsage-

-A color that was very, _very, _familiar-

-And a face that he had seen many times before. A face that was always a topic for discussion amongst the idiots in the teacher's lounge as they talked about the newest exploits of a troublemaker who had rigged a pop machine to fire off cans of soda when someone put in a dollar.

That face had been on his mind for quite a while, and it was always coupled with thoughts of torture, of pain, of poison, of complete and utter _hatred _that burned through him with every ounce of fiery passion that made him put this whole thing together in the first place.

A large, evil grin split his face, his eyes glinting maliciously in the light. "Oh ho ho… This is just too _good." _He took a step forward, and the boy flinched, his sharp breaths puffing out of his nose in short bursts.

"Mr. Joshua Bartelli," said Syndrome smoothly, tilting his head slightly to the side as folded his hands in front of him. "It is more than just coincidence that we meet tonight." He looked up at the man and waved for him to let the boy go. He did so, but with great reluctance. Joshua dropped to the ground unceremoniously, the man shooting him a death glare before going off, whipping out a wet rag from around his apron string and wiping his head clean.

Joshua stumbled to his feet, his automatic instinct to run, but when he saw where he was and who was surrounding him, fear froze him to the ground. Syndrome stared down at him with a seething glare, nearly killing the kid right then and there from the force of his hatred.

"M-Mr. Pine," stuttered out Joshua, swallowing down sickness and fear, "I-I won't tell, I swear. Please, just let me go-"

"Ah, Mr. Bartelli, in all truth, I have to say that this isn't about you coming across my little plan. In fact, that hasn't even crossed my mind, because, to be honest, even if this _was _about you finding out about my activities, no one would believe you because you are a little bastard who has never proven himself to be trustworthy or responsible of anything in his entire life." He smiled. "Yes?"

Joshua should have been angered, but the way Syndrome had delivered his words- the tone of false sweetness with bitter, toxic poison laced into each letter- struck so much fear into him that he could no longer breathe. He could only whimper.

"P-Please-"

"Please? _Please?_" Syndrome threw his head back and laughed, his amusement echoing off the walls. "Mr. Bartelli, this is just the beginning and you're already pleading! Please, please." He whined mockingly. "Please, please, please!" He spat at him, snorting. "God, you're lame. I don't see what Vi sees in you."

"Vi?" Color returned to his face, and his eyes narrowed. "What do you want with Vi?"

Syndrome's eyes widened and he pulled back slightly out of sheer shock. Did… Did he hear correctly? Were his eyes working the way they should? Did he actually just see that sniveling little boy suddenly grow a backbone and defend a young woman whom he thought was to be in danger?

Did this _kid _think that _he- Syndrome- _was going to _harm Violet?_

Did he… _care for her?_

Red. All he saw was red. He moved lightning fast, without any thought to it at all. He grabbed the boy's throat and threw him against the wall, slamming him against the metal pipes behind him. A gurgled sound came from him, a strangled wheeze, but that wasn't enough. He did it again, slamming Bartelli's skull into the wall with a crack. The kid's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He did it again, and again, until blood was pouring down to the cement below, spraying across Syndrome's face. A metallic taste covered his pallet, and it was sweet as he watched bone and brain matter splatter across the wall before him, adding to the red, drowning him in red, feeling so _good _now that there was _nothing_ that could steal his Violet away from him-

"Sir?"

He snapped out of his fantasy, the haze of blood clearing from his vision. He looked around, saw the kid in front of him, his face filled with horror as he stared up at him. He was now sitting on the ground, all feelings of heroism lost from him, leaving behind a shell of a boy who looked damn close to wetting himself.

Hmph. Served him right.

"Sir?" Emily tapped him again on the shoulder. He snapped his head towards her.

"What?"

"News from Second and Evergreen. They stopped the cars. MPD is contacting S.W.A.T right now."

"Alright." He looked back down at the kid, smirking slightly at how badly he was shaking. What a wuss. "Take care of this kid. Do whatever to him, just get him out of here. Oh, and let me know when our guests have arrived." He adjusted his bow tie. "I have a few things to check on."

"Of course, sir."

Emily walked back towards the her spot at the computer, two other men hauling off Joshua. Syndrome shook himself, ridding himself of the remaining feelings of murder that lingered in his mind. He didn't want to confront anybody without his head sitting squarely on his shoulders.

He cut through one of the theaters were a large amount of cargo was being held. The top floor, unsurprisingly, was completely empty, save for his men who were playing the roles of cleaning crews. The food was being cleared away by Geoffry, the only one who seemed to be truly happy and wasn't smiling for appearances. For some reason, Syndrome didn't want to get him involved too deeply in his plans. Geoffry was one of the few he could rely on when it came to things outside of his revenge, things that were immediately related to a beautiful young woman standing near the staircase, looking down into the crowd below with searching eyes.

She looked just like he dreamed of when she was beyond his grasp. Her young age was smothered and hidden away, and he could only see a woman with a thin, smooth neck, gentle curves hugged by deep, purple silk, and hips pronounced by a broad, flowing skirt. Her long, silky hair was put up in a bun at the top of her head, glittering curls dancing down her neck and around her face. She turned her head, revealing her smooth, sloping back, silky string criss crossing across her soft flesh.

She was beauty. She was elegance. She was his butterfly to hold and cherish and keep forever.

Beside him, he heard the laughter of his men. They were talking about Bartelli. The guy who had been hit on the head with the glass was being pushed around a little as they joked. He smirked, and then he hid out of the way behind the ice sculpture he had requested with specific detail. He wanted to surprise her. He wondered if she had seen the similarity?

He moved silently behind her, a predator approaching his prey. Her violet eyes, fuller with long lashes and accenting eyeshadow, sparkling with glitter, were drawn down slightly with frustration as she leaned over the banister. She had to be looking for him.

"Is he in the bathroom?" she speculated with a murmur.

_No, I'm not in the bathroom, _he thought to himself with a smirk. He came up a little closer, and then stopped, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Looking for me?"

He saw her jump, swaying slightly. The effect his voice had on her was instantaneous. He absolutely loved it; the way she shivered; the way her breath began to hitch; the complete surrender of her body when he was near. It was almost as powerful as the effect she had on him, the compulsion to get as close as he could to her a force he couldn't deny. He was drawn to her, his hands aching to touch her soft skin.

He reached out, and he held back a sigh of relief when his hand caressed her shoulder. He came even closer, his thirsting lips gently touching her ear with precise motion. He felt her shudder, and a rush of pleasure hit him, complete satisfaction filling him when she fell into him, pressing herself closer to him, unable to get enough of his warmth.

"I was wondering where you were," murmured Violet quietly, her voice floating along as if slipping into peaceful slumber.

"I just had a few last minute touches to take care of," said Syndrome, not really caring about the conversation. All he wanted was to kiss her again, touch her again, smother her and fill her and consume her until all she knew was him. He wanted to leave, to take her away so that they could be alone. He wanted to make sure she kept her promise, wanted her to see just how much she could love him when he showed her the pleasures that he knew she would crave the moment he shared them.

Then, he remembered that that had to wait. He had something he needed to do that day. He couldn't waste time with her. He needed to fulfill the thing he desired most, the thing that occupied his mind all the time, that made him do everything he did.

Odd. Déjà vu.

"Buddy," said Violet suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Joshua?" Her tone sounded concerned, but on the edges… There was a hint of forewarning. She wasn't dumb. She knew what kind of man she was.

But she had a weakness.

He smiled sweetly, bending down and kissing her neck. She moaned, her body sinking against his. "No, I have not seen him," he murmured against her, his breath tickling her, making her shudder with delight.

"Okay," she breathed lightly, her tone flighty and dazed. "Thank you."

He was just about to flip her around and kiss her breathless when a voice crackled in his ear.

"Sir," said Emily, her tone sharp and serious, "the S.W.A.T team has just arrived. They have eight vans stationed outside as we speak. There are two in the back, six in the front."

Syndrome's eyes narrowed slightly, displeased. He reluctantly pulled away from Violet, much to her chagrin, and quickly made an excuse to get something to drink. He brusquely walked away, speaking in low tones.

"Give me the details on the two in the back."

"They were prepared to storm the back entrance until they came across the vans rigged to explode. They've gone to get somebody to disarm the bombs. As far as we know, there's only two within the city that have the knowledge to disconnect them, but we've got them in our custody now."

"Good." He nodded firmly; their back post was going to hold. "And in the front?"

"There are an estimated four dozen men out front. They're stationed on the road. They've blocked it off all the way to the highway, and as far north and east as Second and Evergreen."

"Then I can assume that everything went well there?"

"Yes, sir," she said, a hint of satisfaction in her words. "The MPD have been effectively cut off. All we need to worry about is S.W.A.T. and the Incredibles."

A poisonous smirk twisted his lips. "Ah yes… Have they arrived yet?"

"They're a block away."

"Good, good…" He peered over the railing down at the students below. Nobody had a clue as to what was going on around them. They were still dancing and laughing and having a gay old time, even though right above their heads, death loomed.

"Idiots," he murmured to himself, but in a delighted tone. "They're still oblivious. Things should run smoothly."

His earpiece beeped, and he switched channels. "Ah, Bomb Voyage. I was wondering when you were going to call."

"I am on ze roof," he said, the sounds of commotion barely heard in the background. "You've got quite ze audience tonight. Zere are more cameras here zen I can even count."

Syndrome frowned. He hadn't thought of the press. A simple oversight, however. If they wanted to take their damn pictures, they could. He just had to be careful as to what they saw.

"I see our special friends," said Bomb Voyage's sarcastic tone. "Zey have just arrived in that damn Incredibile."

Syndrome smirked gleefully. He wished he could have seen their expressions when they had found out their perfect little plan was going to be enacted at the MPAC. The thought of their precious daughter being blown to bits must have cut a year off their lifespan.

As if it wasn't short enough already.

"Thank you, Bomb Voyage. I hope you're ready for a little fun."

"Oh ho ho," chuckled the villain merrily, "I have been waiting for zis moment for quite a long time. I vill enjoy it _very _much."

Syndrome switched channels, his blood rushing through his veins. He was awake, alive, and anxious. He wanted to jump, to punch, to _scream _with all this pent up excitement within him.

"Quickly now, Emily," he said, a maddening smirk on his face, "it's time for the show to start."

"Yes, sir."

The line cut dead, and he tossed the communicator out of his ear, smashing it to bits with his foot. There was no more need for it. Everything was already beginning to roll. All it needed was one… little… _push… _and it would be off, crushing everyone who was in it's path.

He heard her approaching him from behind, and immediately he could sense her fear. It hit him full force, and even though he tried not to- he tried _so hard- _he turned around and met her gaze. She was shaking, her eyes wide and darting around. She was so scared, so frightened, and it cut into him sharper than any knife.

"Buddy," she whispered, wringing her hands together, "I… I think something bad is going to happen…"

She hadn't heard… but she was a super, and supers knew when danger was just around the corner. Another oversight, but this one couldn't be ignored. It made him curse himself loudly and bitterly; he hadn't wanted her to feel this, not now, not _now…_

He held out his arms, and she ran into them, burying her face into his chest. She was shaking, but not out of happiness or pleasure or any of the things he wanted to give her. She was shaking out of fright, and not even his touch could chase it away.

He couldn't _chase it away…!_

"Buddy…" She held onto him tight. "I feel… so sick… We need to get out of here!"

"Shhh…" He gently brushed her hair with his hand, his eyes closing when he felt his men moving into position around them. The sound of dancing was getting quieter and quieter, and their heartbeats were getting louder and louder. The impulse, the desire… He could feel it, could feel the weakness tapping at his heart.

She knew… she _knew, _and now that it was coming and there was no stopping, barreling onwards, towards them, preparing to storm the center, fists raised, the glass trembling as it awaited impact. And as time slowed down and his conscience split in half, the first feeling of regret hit him, and he just wanted to throw up. He wanted to die, wanted to hit himself over and over- release the guilt that had abruptly arose from within him and began clawing at his insides- because she was here and she knew and she _knew that this was going to happen-!_

And he wouldn't stop it_._

_Violet… I'm sorry._

* * *

The first thing she heard was the sound of glass shattering. After that, everything- from sight to sound to smell- was one singular thing that screamed at her and around her, tearing into her just like the fear that was cutting itself into her flesh.

Screams rang through the room, masses of people scrambling to get up the stairs. She reached out for them- wanting to pull them up and away from the danger- but the large men who had been cleaning- the man who had helped her with a smile- blocked off the top of the staircase, pulling guns from the deep pockets of their aprons, pointing them at their heads.

"Don't move," they growled with warning.

So they sat there like cattle to the slaughter, unable to move anywhere. Men dropped from above, pushing them further into the stairs, packing them together. They stood and faced the shattered windows, guns cocked and pointed at the four individuals standing atop the broken glass.

Violet's eyes widened, and in her heart, she found hope and relief.

"Mom! Dad!"

They didn't hear her over the cries of terror and fear. They were focused on the guns pointed at them. She tried to call their names again, but Buddy silenced her.

"Don't," he whispered gravely. "Do not draw attention to us."

She swallowed heavily. She hadn't thought of that. Hopefully no one noticed that they were there.

"Where is he?" demanded her father, his strong voice echoing across the hall, above the crying and the tears.

The man who had helped chuckled derisively. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You're completely surrounded," said her mother sternly. "You're outnumbered three to one. Surrender now, and your punishment will be less severe."

Buzz Cut lowered his gun slightly, contemplating her words. Maybe he was actually considering it? Maybe he would have a change of heart?

He raised his gun again, and instead of pointing it at her family, he grabbed a girl out of the crowd and pointed it at her head.

A girl with a bubble gum pink dress…

"Kari," whispered Violet with horror, pulling herself away from Buddy, rushing forward, preparing to jump over the edge and down below, saving her, taking her away so she wouldn't leave her, wouldn't- wouldn't-!

"Violet, no!" Buddy grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. "You can't!"

"I have to save Kari!" she sobbed, kicking and screaming as he pulled her into a theatre nearby. "Please, I have to save her!"

He clapped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet, Violet!" he hissed. "There's no point in jumping down into your death! And even if you survived, everyone would know who you were. You can't risk it!"

"But… But Kari…!"

"No!"

Helen reached out, taking a step forward. "They didn't do anything! Please, let them go!"

Buzz Cut smirked. "Really? Should I _really _let them go? Or…?" His finger tensed on the trigger. Kari whimpered, and both Helen and Violet reached forward, wanting to tear the gun away from his hands and keep their precious friend safe.

"Let them go," said Mr. Incredible darkly. "Your fight is with us."

He regarded Mr. Incredible curiously for a moment, weighing the situation and his options. For a moment, he looked down at Kari, and almost- _almost- _pulled the trigger… But then he lowered his gun and waved at his men.

"Alright," he said, his eyes going back to the Incredibles. "The hostages can go. But you four," he gestured to them, "ain't goin _nowhere."_

He released Kari. She stumbled forward, and immediately she ran for the door, screaming and crying. Like a ripple effect, everyone else began to rush forward, scrambling for the exit, sobs of terror accenting the darkening mood that was taking over the once precious memories that were supposed to be soft and kind. Now they were twisted and tainted, and even though they had escaped with their lives, everyone who had danced and laughed and enjoyed that night would never forget the nightmares that were sure to come.

When the last person ran out, the Incredibles immediately dropped into a defensive position, their eyes set with the confidence and pride that any superhero had.

"There's an entire S.W.A.T team out there," said Dash, smirking. "There's nothing to stop them now!"

Buzz Cut sighed, and twirled his gun in the air as he shrugged. "Oh no," he said, his voice oozing with sarcasm, his cocky grin hitting the supers full force, making their blood go cold as the hairs on their necks stood up, warning them that something was going to happen-

"What oh what will I do?"

A tense second, and then explosions rocketed behind them, throwing them forward. The men with guns jumped to the sides and escaped up the stairs as a confident cackle echoed above their heads. Mr. Incredible managed to push himself up and catch a familiar white face before another explosion ripped the air above them. The chandelier, once beautiful and full of elegance, blew apart in a terrifying array of razor sharp crystal. The entire structure fell down on top of them, trapping them within twisted, burnt metal, and dangerously jagged remains of glass and stone.

Violet couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't _breathe. _All she knew was that her family was trapped under hundreds of pounds of burning metal, and they were hurt and she loved them so much and she didn't want them to leave her here all alone, didn't want them to go before she told them what was happening to her and how much she cared and wanted them to know that she was happy and… and…!

"Let me go, Buddy!" She thrashed against him as he pulled her back, screaming at the top of her lungs, her broken sobs tearing into her mind, bleeding her dry. "Let me go, dammit! I need to save them, please for the love of God, please, let me go! They need me, please, _I can't leave them here!"_

He wasn't listening to her. He was talking to Emily, her voice somehow recognizable even when she was screaming and crying and dying because she was _leaving them!_

"Violet." Emily was speaking in her ear, holding onto her tightly. "Violet, please, you need to come with me. We need to get out of here. It's too dangerous."

Violet turned to her, holding onto the front of her beautiful dress- even she had expected this night to be beautiful. But no, it was all lies. Lies, lies, _lies._

"I need to help them," she pleaded, tears making her vision blurred. "I can't leave them. I need to help them. They're hurt, and I can help, I know I can. Please, just let me go!"

Even as she asked and begged and dropped to her knees, she was being taken away, dragged across the ground by Emily and Geoffry. She couldn't see him, could only smell the once delicious food that was turning to ash in her memory. She was trying to fight them, trying to break away, but they were too strong. Or perhaps she was too weak. Maybe that was why they were taking her away. Because she wasn't nearly strong enough to save her precious family.

"Please, Violet, calm down," whispered Geoffry worriedly to her, holding her close, rubbing a soothing hand behind her back. "Mr. Pine- Buddy, has gone to help you family. He will do all he can, so please, please stop crying and get into the car. Buddy wouldn't ever want to see you hurt like this."

The cold air was far different than Geoffry's warm embrace. It reminded her that she was still alive, and she blinked away tears, liquid crystals spilling down her burning cheeks. His face was pale, and she saw fear in his eyes, but he was so worried about her, so concerned. And Emily, she was blinking back tears, looking at Violet with an expression filled with sorrow and love and apologies over and over.

She was hurting them just like those men in there were hurting her family. She wasn't thinking about their feelings, or their concerns. She wasn't being the superhero she should have been. She needed to be strong for the people, and give them courage, not break down and lose sight and mind.

"Please," begged Geoffry, just as she had done moments ago, "please don't cry."

She looked up at him for the longest moment, and in that moment she knew that she loved him and Emily just like she loved her family. She smiled, a wet, apologetic smile, and she nodded slowly, hugging Geoffry close.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Thank you."

Geoffry took in a shuddering breath and let it out. It was pure relief. "Okay," he murmured, "we need to get into the car now."

"Take me to the front," said Violet, looking up at Geoffry. "I need to see."

Emily bit her lip. "I don't think-"

"Please." She asked calmly and gently. "I need to see."

Emily looked at her for a long moment, conflict passing through her eyes, but eventually she nodded, even though it was out of great reluctance.

"Alright."

* * *

"This… is how I dreamt it would always be like…"

Bob heard the familiar voice, and it dragged him out of the darkness and into the world of pain. He slowly pushed himself up, crystal and glass and plaster falling off of him like jagged snow, littering the ground beneath him. His head still spinning, he looked around him. Dash was sitting up, Jak Jak groaning slightly. Helen was unconscious, her body still limp and slightly stretched after folding around the children, protecting them from the largest part of the chandelier. Worry filled his chest, and he hoped that his wife was alright.

A foot crunched down onto a slab of glass. It was close by, crackling in Bob's ear. He knew the aura that was creeping over him, and he knew the fury that was rising within. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes filled with unadulterated hatred for the man looming over him, his clean cut appearance far different than Bob's disheveled, painful one.

"_Syndrome," _seethed Bob through his clenched jaw. "I should have known."

"Yes," agreed Syndrome simply, "you should have. And yet you didn't. I wonder why… Maybe it had to do with your trust for your daughter?"

His daughter… In the crowd of people, and the colors, and the sparkles, and the finery that hours upon hours of work had paid for- when it had all rushed by him- not once did he see anything with a violet hue that was so familiar to him.

His daughter had not escaped.

"Where. Is. She?" Each word was punctuated with burning hatred, Bob's eyes blazing, absolute fury reviving his worn body, his blood pumping, the desire to destroy the man in front of him greater than any love he had ever felt.

"Where is she?" Syndome leaned a little forward, cupping his ear. "Where is she, you said?" He straightened, looking contemplatively up at the destroyed ceiling. "Hmm… I think you're asking the wrong question. I think the question you _should _be asking is, Why wasn't she with the other students? You'd think that she'd be right along with them, but she _wasn't, _was she?" He turned his head towards him, sliding his eyes across them, a dark, sadistic smirk stretching his face. "I wonder why that is?"

Bob's eyes were narrowed, his breathing heavy, his whole body tensing, his hands twitching to wrap themselves around the bastard's neck. "Syndrome…" His voice came out in a growl. "What have you done with my daughter?"

Syndrome's smirk grew wider. "Ah, now _that's _the question I was looking for! Y-You see, I couldn't reply with a witty, cunning, mind-crushing answer without a proper question. I had to wait for the right moment, you know, so it wouldn't lose any impact. But here you are, already firing it off, and I- I barely had to wait at all! Isn't that something? I-It's like we're- we're… _connected_, right? Like we're supposed to be enemies forever! You and me, me and you, there's no worry about not having a little competition in your life, right?"

Syndrome waited for a reply from him, but he wasn't going to get one. So, he shrugged.

"Alright, I know when somebody's not in the mood to talk. Now- now what was that question again? What have I done with your daughter?" He grinned to himself. "Wow, you couldn't have worded it any better. You made it so easy for me to reply- how polite of you! You didn't say, Where is my daughter? Or, Where did you put my daughter? No, _you _said, What have I _done _with your daughter. _Done!_" He laughed gleefully, shaking his head at him with amazement. "Wow. So nice of you. Well, I'm just going to have to be equally nice. That 's the only thing I _can _do, really…"

His smile faded, his eyes ceasing it's happy glinting, and they grew cold, dark. Cruel amusement rolled off of him in waves, and he knelt down slowly, his shoes breaking and grinding the glass into the concrete floor below. He leaned in close, licking his lips slightly, and he whispered low, just as if he was telling a special friend a special secret.

"What have I done with your daughter, Robert?" His deep, poisonous voice filled Bob's mind. "What have I done? Well, Robert, I fucked her. I _fucked _your sixteen year old daughter. And you know what else?" He smirked. "She _liked _it."

A fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying backwards. It was thin, delicate, and a woman's hand. Bob turned his head, so glad to see his wife was still alive.

But then he saw her eyes, and he knew that she was _pissed._

"You… you _bastard." _She was livid, stepping over the twisted metal and broken crystal as if it was nothing, She was not stopping, not ceasing, not even blinking, watching Syndrome stumbled to his feet before another one of her fists snapped his head sideways, causing him to go crashing into the side of the staircase.

He hung on the railing, wiping away a small trickle of blood that was trailing down the corner of his mouth. He chuckled slightly, sniffing away the metallic scent that was filling his throbbing nose. He swung his head languidly in the direction of Helen, his lips quirking crookedly, revealing a mouth of red teeth.

"Oh, you don't like that?" he said, his voice slightly rough, each word accented by cocky amusement. "You don't like the fact that I soiled your daughter? But what if I told you she wanted it? What if I told you that behind your backs, your innocent daughter snuck out into the night so that she could get a little closer to me?"

Helen flinched, and his eyes flashed. Bob suddenly felt sick, recalling all those nights were he was woken up by hidden sounds that he could never find the source of. And his daughter's mood. She had been so different lately, so distant.

"Oh yes," said Syndrome, pushing himself off the railing, straightening himself. "For the past month now, she's been escaping into the wee hours of the night to spend time with _me. _All those sleepovers? With me. And that gift basket she received? Her special friend? Me."

"You lie," whispered Helen.

"Lie? Me? No, I don't lie, especially when it comes to bragging." He inspected his cufflinks, the peculiar crystal glimmering slightly in the twilight-lit room. "She was so good, so sweet, so pure… And when she writhed beneath me in the sheets…" He sighed with content. "Damn. It's no wonder I had to take her against the shower wall- _twice. _She was just that _good-"_

He froze Helen just when she was about to send him soaring with an uppercut to his jaw. Zero point energy glowed around his hand, his cufflinks sparkling the brightest. With his other hand, he shook his finger back and forth, clicking his tongue.

"Ah, ah, ah. This is _my _time now." He smirked, and then he threw her into the ceiling. She connected with the plaster, bits and pieces falling around the impact. She grunted and began to fall, only to be caught again and thrown into the ice sculpture on the top level. She connected with a smack, ice shattering as she and the figurine went crashing into the theatre wall. Helen slumped, unable to move.

Bob's eyes widened with terror. "Helen!"

"Helen!" mocked Syndrome in a high pitched whine. "I wouldn't be worrying about her if I were you." He pointed and fired his laser at him, capturing the hulking superhero in his beam. He was just about to throw him-

A body threw itself into Syndrome's side, knocking him sideways, instantly breaking his connection of Bob. Lightning fast fists knocked his head around before one final kick sent him into the water fountains near the bathrooms. The pipes snapped, and water gushed out, flooding the floor.

Syndrome raised his head up, glaring from underneath his soaking hair with absolute hatred at the boy who stood smugly where Syndrome once was.

"Don't forget about us," he said, his mouth quirking. He gestured his head slightly to the left. Syndrome barely recognized the gesture, turning his head too late-

A demonic child threw itself at him, tearing at his hair and his clothes, grabbing his head and banging it into the broken fountain behind him. It snarled and spat and growled, biting down on his wrist, shattering one of his cufflinks. It spat out the sparking remains and moved to eat the other ones.

Syndrome froze the child just as it's jaws were just about to clamp over his entire hand. Like swatting away an annoying mosquito, he tossed the child into his brother, sending both crashing into the ground. Syndrome stood up, pushing back his dripping hair, scanning the room with irritated, furious eyes, a ravage grin on his face.

"Oh Robert," he singsonged, stepping forward, his expensive shoes squelching from being waterlogged, "where are you?" He went up the stars, past the two unconscious boys. He paused for a moment, and then gestured to the men who had been standing in the shadows, waiting for orders from him. Two came forward.

"Take them out of here," murmured Syndrome, looking down at them with distaste. "Bomb Voyage knows where to."

He continued up the stairs, not caring about how they were handling the boys. He was focused on his goal, his one goal that he had been craving for for so long. As he went up, he fluidly bent down and picked up his suitcase, opening it and sliding on the Gauntlet inside without ever stopping, his feet always taking another step. He reached the top of the stairs, his fingers flexing within the safety of the metal glove, his eyes sliding over to his most hated person.

Bob was bent down, holding Helen in his arms. His eyes were wide, tears filling them. She was bleeding badly from the head, red crimson dripping from her nose and mouth. Her eyes were opened, but just barely, and incoherent words were pouring out of her mouth, her final thoughts, her regrets all slurred together in a sloppy, messy manner that wasn't fitting for the climatic ending all superhero deaths were supposed to have. He was holding her close, shaking, whispering, unaware of the approaching presence and the crackling power that was building.

"Looks pretty bad," said Syndrome callously, stopping a few feet away. His toe kicked the shattered remains of the ice woman's hand, the fragile butterfly snapping off and clattering to the floor. "I don't think she'll live for much longer."

"Bob," she murmured, "Bob, help me up. I need… I need to get… him… Our daughter, he…" Her head lolled, the rest of her sentence fading into a groan.

"No, honey," whispered Bob, gently brushing away a strand of blood stained hair out of her eyes. "I'll do it."

"Oh, and, uh, don't forget to extract your revenge on me for taking away your other children, too," interjected Syndrome pointedly.

Bob froze, his hand poised over his wife's face. Then, slowly, he lowered her to the ground, pulling her out of his lap. He stood up, the blood from his wife staining his supersuit. His large fists were covered in red, his cheek splattered with warm, crimson life. The hatred in his gaze was no longer burning, or all consuming. It was cold, dead, and everlasting. It made him completely void of everything. He couldn't feel, couldn't think, and he stood there in that moment of nothing, simply breathing.

Then, like flipping a switch, he was an inferno. He was screaming and roaring and charging forward. Syndrome fired a beam of zero-point energy at him, but he broke it with a shrug, his charge unceasing. He was going to _kill _him. He would kill him for his wife, kill him for his children, kill him for coming into existence. And then, then he would kill himself for being a part of this monster's creation.

Syndrome looked down curiously at his cufflinks. "Hm," he said, eyebrows arching slightly with surprise. "I guess these aren't as good as they used to be." He turned his head, a wide grin splitting his face as he raised his gauntlet, a red beam collecting and flashing, shadowing Robert's massive body as he approached, closer and closer, his hatred burning in his eyes, consuming his entire soul.

"Sorry, Robert," said Syndrome, "but this time is for _my _revenge."

Syndrome fired. The beam shot out and hit Robert full force. It surrounded him, encompassing him, growing and thriving and crackling. He screamed in pain, his whole body seizing as his muscles contracted painfully. Syndrome writhed, laughing and laughing and bright, green energy raced into his body, surrounding him, entering his bones, his blood, shaking his core and showing him everything that he _ever wanted-_

The beam cut off. Robert teetered, and then his hulking mass went crashing to the ground, smoke rising off of him. Syndrome was breathing heavily, his eyes glazed over as he twitched slightly, his body becoming accustomed to the strength that was coursing through his veins.

"_Ah…" _He breathed, closing his eyes, lifting his face to the ceiling, basking in the moment. "This… _This _is what it feels like to be a super… No wonder you enjoy it so much." He lowered his head, tilting his head with amusement as he tried to watch Robert stand. "Oh, don't do that," he said, walking forward, feeling extreme satisfaction when he saw him slide back to the floor. "It's making you look more and more pathetic."

He stopped just before him, his boots in front of Robert's face. He flexed his arms, watching his muscles expand and contract. "I don't look any different. I'm certainly not as large as you are. But…" He reached down and grabbed the back of Robert's collar. "Looks are _very deceiving…!"_

With uncanny strength, Syndrome hurled Robert into the air as if he was nothing, his large, hulking mass crashing into the ceiling, plaster cracking and falling as he came tumbling back down. Syndrome laughed and caught him just before he hit the ground. He held the man with one arm, smiling happily to himself.

"You know," he said to Robert as he groaned, "I could really get used to this."

He threw him again, this time across the room and high into the air. He crashed into another one of the chandeliers, his body being tangled into the metal before his weight caused the whole structure to come down, more of the beautiful crystal shattering on impact.

"Ooh!" Syndrome winced, laughing. "That _had _to hurt!" He leapt over the banister, landing on two firm feet. He strolled forward as Robert tumbled down the top of the chandelier, his body rolling to a stop. Syndrome tapped his chin in thought.

"You-You know, this seems oddly familiar. Now where have I seen this… Oh, now I remember! This was about three years ago, wasn't it? I was monologing, and you had the audacity to throw a tree trunk at me." He looked around. "Well, I don't see any tree trunks here, and I certainly think that you don't have the power to hurl a tree trunk even if an en entire forest suddenly sprouted up around us. So, _I'm _going to monologue, and _you _are going to listen."

He picked Robert up and slammed him down into the chandelier, forcing him into a sitting position. Robert groaned, his head rolling back, coughing up blood as he did so. Syndrome paid no attention to this, and instead sat down beside him, a mocking scene of two friends sharing a bench.

"Robert," he began kindly, brushing off detritus from his sleeves, squeezing out water from his hair, "I have to say, I really, truly hate you. You ruined my life, my relationship, and you basically took away everything that was mine." He shook a finger at him. "You-You're lucky, Robert, you are, because _I _am nice enough to share that kind of loss with you, you know? M-Most people wouldn't- wouldn't even _dare _to do that to you, _especially _since you're a super, but _I _don't care about that. What _I _care about is that you get to experience everything that you can, including total loss and death and abandonment. I care _that much._

"But, I have to say," continued Syndrome, leaning back up against the framework of the chandelier, resting his elbow on Robert's shoulder, propping up his head against his hand, "I'm doing a whole lot better now. And guess what? It's because of you!" He laughed. "Isn't that funny? My revenge and hatred for you has brought me happiness! I-I got my revenge- and what good revenge it was! I mean, look around you!" He grabbed Robert's head and forced it up, turning his head back and forth to survey his surroundings. "This is just perfect! I killed your wife, I took your children- hell, I even took your powers!" He dropped his head, the back of his skull banging against a metal rail. "I honestly think I should have done this in the first place. Well, your daughter would have been a little young, but…"

He saw Robert weakly raise his fist to try and punch, but all it did was sag against Syndrome's face. He sighed and shook his head, swatting away the man's hand. "That just won't do, Robert, that just won't do." He leaned back into the chandelier, watching the water from the broken pipe flood the floor like an abstract fountain. "You know, your daughter played a really big part in this. She was… something that I honestly didn't think was going to evolve beyond the point of 'tool.' But, just like everything else in my life, that changed and I found myself actually liking the girl."

He saw Robert's eyes begin to flutter closed, so he grabbed his head and shook him roughly awake. "Hey, I'm trying to tell you something. Stop being so rude and listen to me." He let him go again and then continued on with his story.

"I never told anyone this, but I think I care about her. Well, in a way that you really care about a special car, or a pet or something, I don't know." He waved his hand in the air. "Although, I have to say that… that might not be the entire truth." He frowned to himself, his eyes drawing together. "No… That's definitely not the whole truth…"

He heard footsteps. Bomb Voyage was standing on the top floor, a large suitcase in his hands. He gestured to the theatre.

"Hurry up, Syndrome," he called out. "Ze bombs are set to go off in three minutes."

"Of course, of course." Bomb Voyage turned and left, and Syndrome stood up, stretching. "Man! This strength is great! I really have to thank you for this goodbye gift. Well, I won't be able to keep it forever- it _is _only temporary, but I'm afraid you won't be here to get it back."

"…drome…"

Syndrome turned his head, eyebrows arching slightly. "Hm?"

Robert coughed. "Sy… Syndrome…" He swallowed, only to cough again, red blood frothing at his lips. "Don't… don't hurt… Violet… P-please…"

Syndrome smirked, chuckling. "Don't hurt Violet? What about your other children? Hmph, what a biased father you are. I think I hate you less."

Robert's hand was reaching out, trying to grab onto Syndrome, his eyes rolling, blinking slowly. "Don't… hurt… her…"

He sighed, long and low, his eyes drawing down slightly. "Weren't you listening to a word I was saying?" he murmured. And then, out of a compulsion, he grabbed Robert's hand, pulling him forward, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments.

"Robert," he said, his voice caressing Bob's fading thoughts, "if you had truly listened- _truly listened- _then maybe I would have let you died with a little happiness. But you didn't listen, and you know how rude that is. So, I'm not going to let you die with a peaceful mind." He pulled him closer. "Think on it, Robert. Think on what I have done to you. And form your own answer."

He let him go, his body sinking back into the twisted remains of the chandelier. Looking around him one last time, he mussed up his hair, twisted his suit a little, and added a tear at the end for good measure. Then, his face filled with sorrow and concern and his eyes grew grave and he looked so apologetic.

"If only you could see my performance," he said, his tone ugly as it conflicted with his words. "I'm going to tell her that I tried to save you. I'm going to say that I did all that I could to help you, but you just wouldn't accept it. And because she loves me so much, she'll believe every single word." He turned to him, his eyes filled with mocking pity. "Enjoy the fireworks. I know I will."

Then, he left him, leaving Robert to sink into terrifying darkness.

* * *

_Please…_

Her eyes were trained on the windows. The sashes that were hanging over the windows had been undone and were blocking the view. No one could see what was going on inside; they could only hear the destruction.

_Please…_

Geoffry and Emily were standing behind her, Geoffry's hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

"_He will do all he can."_

Time kept on passing, but nothing was happening. Only more thumps, more cracks, and no answers. No one was coming or leaving. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't tell if they were alright, or if they were still alive, or if Buddy was okay, and…

_Please…_

She kept praying. Please, please, please, over and over, her hands wringing in her lap as she pleaded for her loved ones to be safe. She didn't want to be alone. Not alone, not again…

_Please…_

Cameras were flashing all around her, news crews standing in front of their cameras, reporting the live even that made the people at home pop their popcorn and watch the live action movie fold in front of them. But what they didn't know was that her loved ones were in there, and if she ever found out that he had felt even the barest feeling of entertainment from this, she would personally find them and kill them.

And still she prayed to God.

_Please..._

A voice echoed through the air. Everyone's attentions shifted, lenses searching for the source. Violet closed her eyes, picturing the face that came with the voice. It was painted in black and white, his long face turned into a proud smirk as his lips moved to the invisible voice.

"A new era haz begun!" it declared, echoing all throughout the city. "Superheroes, your brief run haz come to an end! The wrath of ze supervillains vill chane zis city- zis _vorld! _And you all… You are all honored to be ze first ones to see ze first sign of ze new revolution!"

Violet kept her eyes closed, unmoving, unflinching. But inside… inside she was crying. She was crying because she knew… She knew just like before, just like all those other times- she _knew _that everything was _over._

Her eyes opened, tears spilling down her cheeks.

_Goodbye…_

The walls to the MPAC seemed to expand, as if they had suddenly been turned into rubber. Everyone took in a breath- was this really happening?

Stone and metal and glass split and ripped and crashed and exploded in a fiery tempest that blew everyone backwards. They hid behind cars and vans and trucks and barriers as shards of deadly everything split out and shot through the air, tearing everything in it's path apart. More explosions rocked the building, fire bursting into the air, metal groaning and stone collapsing as the entire back of the building folded and caved in. The banners of their prom were burnt to ashes in seconds, wisps of smoke curling in the air as the smell of burnt stone and metal filled the air along with the acrid scent of chemicals and explosives.

She stared.

All she could think about was how beautiful the fire was.

A hand was coming around her. It was firm and familiar, and it was drilling into the shock that was surrounding her shuddering heart.

"I'm sorry," whispered Buddy, holding her close. "I tried."

_I tried…_

He tried… He _tried. _

But trying… trying wasn't succeeding.

The flames that touched the cold night sky licked the air, making it hot. She breathed it in deeply, action so familiar, like drawing a razor across fragile skin. It was burning her from the inside, scorching her lungs, boiling her blood, turning her bones into yellow, split ugliness, her skin splitting and oozing, her eyes melting, her hair burning, burning…

But still she stood, staring at the flames, and they remained beautiful.

And she, in all her finery, remained beautiful.

But like the scars that were burning into the ground, into the stone, into the deep, deep earth that was surely tasting her family's blood, she was ugly, so ugly on the inside.

His touched reached her heart, and she snapped.

She crumpled, and with one last clean breath before her soul turned to ash, she screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her vision turned black and she saw no more.

--

And when she fell from his arms, victory firmly in his grasp, a bitter taste filled his mouth. The flames of his revenge scorched the sky, in his eyes, and within him, and the warmth he had always thought he would have loved blistered him, leaving him aching.

That night, he had won what he had craved.

That night, he had lost what he now desired.

Everything... everything had turned out exactly the way he had wanted it. Those who had scorned him had been dealt their punishments. His plan had come along without a hitch, and in the distance, into the future, he could see a whole new age dawning, an age that he had always longed for, an age that would give to those what was due.

And yet...

The guilt would not go away.

Her sobs echoed in his ears, resounding over and over in his head until he began to think that perhaps those cries were his own.

He had sworn he would get his revenge. And he succeded. And within a part of him, he was elated.

But it was not sweet; it was acidic and it tasted like bile, and try as he might, he could not ignore it.

He felt the eyes around him, looking at him, questioning. They could feel their hatred burning against his skin. It reminded him just who he was, the evil monster who had killed innoent people in order to have a taste of heroism. The monster thrived off of their hatred, revitilized by it, and the sickness sank. He remeberd why he had done it, remembered _why _he had turned against the life he had once loved, the people he had once idolized. His hatred was went both ways; to the people who denied him, and the people who scorned him because of his dreams.

He hated them all.

The fires burned because of them.

He closed his eyes, ash and sound and smell falling around him, sinking into his skin, becoming a part of him. He took in a deep breath, taking in everything, every detail, every color, every sharpness or bitterness or the sweeping heat or the conflicting cold. He brought it all in, and when it was all there, he pushed it deep within himself, letting it fill him to the brim. Elation, pride, perfection, longing, guilt... All of it was there, and he rolled the taste of it alcross his tongue, letting the thought of it absorb into his soul, words forming across the taste, along his conscience. A single sentence that defined the future that was so clearly set ahead.

His eyes opened, revealing the flickers of his loathing.

_I... hate this world._

The cries continued, always there, also a part of him now.

But he accepted them, just as he began to accept that he would never be able to get the scent of vanilla off of his skin.

Would never be able to sleep without her by his side.

Would never kiss any lips but hers.

Butterfly dust sparkled in his mind's eye, and he watched them turn into the embers that were slowly floating into the sky. Poison lingered in his memory, tasting sweet and violet, caressing him, and he stood there, his eyes drawn down to the beautiful creature crumbled at his feet.

So sweet... so seductive... so deadly.

So his.

_For you, and only for you... I will feel remorse._


	23. End

* * *

**Prologue and Epilogue:**

**The Beginning and the End**

_

* * *

_

They never did find their remains.

Joshua had gone missing.

The fire department said they had been lost in the fire.

The funeral, despite Violet's wishes, had been made public.

It seemed all of Metroville missed her family.

But did they miss them as much as she?

She didn't say much, even though the cameras had expected her to. But mostly, she kept quiet because they _were _there. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing Invisigirl cry. Invisigirl _never _cried, not even now.

But when everyone left… Violet made sure to cry.

She couldn't bury her family.

She hoped they wouldn't mind.

Then, she reminded herself that they were dead, so of course they wouldn't mind.

Violet made sure to cry.

* * *

Violet wasn't old enough to live on her own. Social services were coming the next day to place her in a foster family.

She wouldn't go.

She told Buddy she wouldn't go.

He pulled a few strings, and as far as the government was concerned, Violet didn't even exist.

Moving her things out of her house had been the most difficult. The bank had been set on auctioning off her things. But yet again, Buddy pulled through and they managed to steal back her family's belongings.

One crime wouldn't hurt.

The move to his house had been swift, the transition intangible. His home had been her home for weeks. The only difference was that more of her crap could be seen in different places in the house, mostly in his room, in his closet where her clothes were placed neatly on their own side, opposite to his.

It looked like it should have been.

* * *

She didn't go back to school.

She didn't need to.

Violet didn't exist, after all.

Buddy promised to teach her, anyway. Who needed school when you had him?

Buddy was often busy now that he wasn't busy with teaching.

Mostly, he was busy because everyone knew he was a supervillain.

And because he was a supervillain, he was a threat.

The age of villainy was a promise. Superheroes began to disappear, or were being killed when they slept.

And Violet still lived.

And Buddy was so busy.

She knew he was hiding something.

But he was all that she had.

She never questioned.

Emily and Geoffry kept her company, but even though she loved them, they couldn't make her happy.

She never told them that. It would hurt them too much.

At least she was still polite.

* * *

Time seemed to hold no meaning for her.

Grieving was a long process.

Staring out the window one day from their bedroom, she realized that a year had already gone by.

When did she turn seventeen?

Months rolled on.

Buddy was still busy.

She was still alive.

Everyone else was still dying.

And the fire still burned.

* * *

On a wet, spring morning, Violet went out into the garden and sat on one of the benches outside. She stared up into the sky, watching the rain fall around her. It hit her face, caressed her cheeks, and soothed her in its sparkling life.

She decided, on that day, the day of March 16, she would live again.

Anniversaries were the best times for changing lives.

She didn't want to celebrate it at home.

And that day was particularly slow…

She went off to find Buddy.

* * *

He sat in his lab, leaning back in a large, comfy chair, watching the screen in front of him as it recalled the day's events. Just as he had promised long ago, breaking news poured through the airwaves; another bank exploded; two more missiles were launched in the ocean; another superhero was found dead.

NSA was after him.

They wouldn't get him, though.

He had been busy, after all.

He glanced over at his Gauntlet, hovering within a highly secured case, shimmering, speaking to him with silence.

Very busy, indeed.

He pressed a button, and the sound of a phone rang through the room.

It clicked.

"_Yes, Monsieur Syndrome?"_

Syndrome pushed himself out of his chair and walked forward, his eyes trained on the weapon before him. He folded his arms behind his back, staring contemplatively at the hovering metal as it slowly rotated in its anti-gravity space.

He hadn't touched it again since that night.

Blood still stained the metal.

He would never touch it again.

"If you don't mind," said Syndrome, "I would really like to know-"

There was a knock at his door.

"Buddy? You in there?"

He sighed solemnly to himself.

Never again.

"Yes, Vi. I'll be there in a minute."

He heard her leave.

He had been so busy lately.

She knew she missed him.

He wished he could tell her he was doing this all for her.

But he couldn't even tell himself.

"_Monsieur Syndrome?"_

His eyes slid back to the gauntlet.

"Yes," he said again, his eyes turning back to the television as images of death blazed across the bright screen. "There is something I would like to know."

"_Anything, Monsieur."_

He watched a family disappear into a house of flames.

He watched his butterfly's wings turn to ash.

Maybe… one day… She would see what he had given up.

And maybe… just maybe…

She would forgive him.

"Bomb Voyage," he said, "how does our favorite family fare?"

--

--

--

* * *

A/N:

Oh my goodness, what a ride that was, huh? And I know I left you with a _horrible _cliffhanger, but don't fret! "Nevermore," the sequel to Nightshade Seduction, will make sure all loose ends are tied firmly together. So please… don't kill me. I am fragile enough!

This is the first Fanfiction I have ever finished… and I am so happy. I _completed _one of the billions of stories I stared! Yay for me! But I couldn't have done so without you, the readers. You guys kept me going, and I love ya for it. Hugs to all!

Big thanks to **Apolianne. **Your reviews are always filled with awesome feedback, and they made me super happy each time I saw them, even when you were critiquing me and telling me something was just plain off.

More thanks to **crzysheelf. **It's thanks to her that I discovered synlet and all it's goodness. You have changed my life forevah!

I hope you enjoyed this. I know I have. And while it is bittersweet to bring this to a close, I am happy that the story will still continue. All it takes is a little patience.

Adieu for now,

_~TS_


End file.
